The Remnant
by Debt-Ridden-Sleeper
Summary: It's 1982: The First Wizarding War is over, and Conny DeH is starting her first year at Hogwarts. Though He Who Must Not Be Named has gone, one loyal follower left -the remnant- is plotting to change time all together. Under the mysterious Professor Killory, Conny and her friends find themselves accidentally involved in a very dangerous game. First book of seven.
1. Prologue

Hi all. This is the first book of my War In Between series, following a group of Ravenclaws and their friends at the end of the First Wizarding War. This first book, the Remnant, was written several years ago, and admittedly I am not super proud of it. All I can do if promise you that the second book, The Legend, is must better and requires that you get to know the characters in this first book.  
I welcome all reviews, and apologise for any spelling, grammar, or continuity errors that I have missed. I do not own Harry Potter and am not making any money from this.  
Everything is canon, or canon+ (ie my own stuff has been added in as long as it does not explicitly conflict with canon).

Please enjoy!

The Remnant

Prologue: Mr. Smith's Train Journey

Mr. Rodney Smith had to blink a couple of times and straighten his spectacles before he could believe the man next to him: impossibly tall and thin, like a string bean (Mr. Smith himself was, as he liked to think, well-proportioned), wearing a matching magenta top hat and dressing gown with a necklace of lizard feet and miniature peacock feathers. Clearing his throat and straightening his tie, Mr. Smith edged away from the stranger and fidgeted with his briefcase, wondering when the train would arrive. He checked his expensive watch just as a group of similarly odd persons skipped past him. 'Today's the day!' they sang, beards and amulets and all sorts flying everywhere as they crossed the platform. Mr. Smith sighed and wiped his forehead, hoping it was just some sort of convention. Yes, that would be it.

Further down the platform he spied a family, looking, thankfully, relatively normal- except for the husband's back-to-front cardigan and his wife's strange and shabby frock coat. They hefted a couple of children up and began walking briskly towards a woman in powder blue robes, who was smoking a pipe that blew purple smoke. They reached each other, hugged and burst out crying with joy. Mr. Smith shook his head. What cause did these people have for such happiness? He thought about anything that could merit such merriment. The first Boeing 747 flight? That was in the news a while ago. Slavery in Mauritania had been abolished. That couldn't be it, Mr. Smith thought airily. This was 1981; Thatcher was making it miserable enough as it was. Oh well, he thought, he must be getting on his train. The seven-thirty to Hammersmith was his. He hopped on board, getting into a seat, and pulled out his appointment book to prime himself for the day ahead. He was just getting to his midday with Mrs. Johnson when a man plonked himself unceremoniously next to him. Mr. Smith's lip curled as he regarded the man, dressed silly like the rest of the revellers. He was attractive in a late-thirties sort of way, with an impish air about him. His dressing gown was sea-blue, and he carried an air of delight about him that for some reason Mr. Smith found infectious. He smiled at the man, who grinned back and took his hand.

"My friend, today is a very good day indeed."

"I noticed." Mr. Smith said. "Some kind of convention?"

The man chuckled. "Oh no, sir. Today the Dark Lord is gone, and the world can breathe again! May you have a wonderful day as well!"

Ah, Mr. Smith realised, there must be a dungeons and dragons convention in town. This Dark Lord nonsense seemed to fit in with that. He nodded meekly, reminding himself to raise his children far away from that sort of lark, and cancelled his two-fifteen, thinking that he'd need some breathing time today.

"Have you any children?" The man abruptly asked as they flashed past a station. What a question, Mr. Smith thought, to a stranger next to one on the train! The man didn't wait for an answer. "I have a little daughter, myself. Just ten years old. Oh, what a wonderful childhood she'll have now, my friend! Free from the shadow that has fallen over us all!" He showed white teeth. "Well, it has been wonderful knowing you, Mr. Smith, but I have several parties to attend."

He whipped out of his seat as the train came to a halt at Shepherd's Bush. Mr. Smith watched him go, quite pleased to be alone.

Only once he was at work a couple of hours later did he pause to wonder how on earth the man had known his name?


	2. Chapter 1

Here is chapter one, for a taste. Chapter two will be posted next week.

Chapter One: David's Favourite Daughter

Some months after that incident, the man in blue robes from the train could be found bursting with pride as his now eleven-year-old daughter read aloud from a letter that had arrived in the post that morning. It was late July, and the family of three had been enjoying their summer together, the last before little Conyeri would be swept up to Hogwarts.

"Dear Miss DeHayersae," the little girl read in her childish voice as her mother turned down the radio. "We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

The family grinned in tandem, the two parents throwing themselves into a hug with their daughter. "Of course you'd have a place, Conny! You're the smartest little witch I've ever seen."

She snorted but enjoyed the attention. "Is it true that a first-year is always sacrificed to the giant squid?"

"David!" her mother said, appalled, whacking her husband with the butter knife. "What stories have you been putting into her head?"

"Oh, just the best ones." He kissed her on the cheek. "No, darling, I made that one up. Farrell Dunty did once dangle me by my toes over the lake, though."

"And did you get eaten?"

He chuckled. "Of course not. Else I wouldn't be here now, with you."

"Oh." David worried that his daughter looked a bit disappointed that he hadn't been devoured by the giant squid. "Any road, Liz, my darling, we'll have to make the trip to Diagon Alley soon."

Conyeri's mother, a muggle, nodded vigorously. "I can't wait! You know I'm the little girl when it comes to that place, Davey."

"I don't think I can deal with two of you!" he joked, taking the equipment list off Conyeri and perusing it over his cornflakes. "I hear they've changed to standard size two cauldrons, you know. Eesh, I remember when I was there… we all had to have size three's- it was horrible! And the ones they used to sell at Mexitt's had dodgy collapsing charms, so sometimes when you were carrying them they'd spring to full size and squash you flat!"

"But mine will be small and good, won't it?" Conyeri piped up from where she was magicking the letters on the envelope to spell rude words. So far she had _grasshopper smell poo _from their address, and was busy moving the words around with her fingertips, giggling to herself.

"Of course sweetie. Don't play with your letter. Now you're a student, you're not supposed to use magic outside school." Her father warned, tapping her on the head with a jolt.

"Meanie!" Conyeri pouted, but didn't protest, excitement bubbling in her chest. "Can we go today? Please?"

David looked at Liz, who checked the chalkboard by the kitchen door. "I have to visit granny later, but I'm sure we can make time."

The little witch squealed in delight and jumped off her chair, coco pops untouched. The DeHayersae house was an eclectic mix of magic and muggle, neither husband nor wife wanting to give up their heritage. The result was obvious; a spice rack that started at cinnamon and nutmeg but at some point became powdered mandrake root and honey-seared woodlice. A jar of pickled lamb's gallstones could easily be mistaken for the pickled onions (this had once, incidentally, caused an interesting dinner). The hat-stand occasionally belched and refused to take synthetic hats. Non-moving muggle pictures were poked and prodded by their animated wizard companions, who apparently found being in a still photograph unsettling. The house's occupants thought it wonderful, though David DeHayersae was secretly pleased that his daughter had turned out a witch; he couldn't bear seeing her a muggle. No, he thought smugly, opening his paper- his little girl was going to Hogwarts, and she would be wonderful, he knew. Little Conyeri was already a decent witch, although her attention wandered to whatever spell or trick she found interesting, and she couldn't be persuaded to go near an astronomy chart ('stars are _boring_! They don't _move_!'), but there was potential. David himself came from Hufflepuff, but he knew that his daughter was a little smarter, more curious, than he, and he expected a Ravenclaw from her.

Once she was gone, he and his wife Elizabeth shared a smile and finished their breakfast together. David knew that she had it hard; only being able to glimpse the wizarding world through him, but their love was strong and had been so for a long time, ever since he'd bumped into her at a small muggle café that he frequented near his work. As a PR representative for Wog & Holles, one of Britain's biggest magical logistics companies, he had a unique insight into the muggle world, and had no trouble intermingling.

"Her enthusiasm'll be the death of me." He joked; charming bowls and spoons into the sink when they'd finished breakfast. "We'd best get going soon then, it's already nine."

"I'll call Pat." Liz said, talking about her mother, a frail old lady who lived by herself just out of London. "Maybe we could pick something up from that bakery- what was it called?"

David's eyes brightened. "Finus Leavenloaf's." He practically drooled the name. "I haven't had a spindle-cream parfait since Macmillan was Prime Minister."

They got into their normal clothes, which consisted of muggle attire with a touch of wizard- David couldn't live without his tartan waistcoat and pointy boots, while Elizabeth had a choker of tiny, real pearls that her husband had stolen from a sleeping dragon's hoard back in the days before they had a daughter to look after. "Conyeri!" He bellowed through the wall, and she appeared a second later in a summer dress, looking wonderful and childish. He imagined her in Hogwarts robes and saw his daughter's future. How exciting it was for all of them!

"Well, let's go!" The family set out, taking the underground to central London before hopping off near Charing Cross in a nameless street that was of paramount wizarding importance. David held his wife's hand tightly as the door of the Leaky Cauldron swung open for them. Conyeri thought herself that it needed a lick of paint, but concentrated on not choking from the plume of multi-coloured smoke that rolled out of the door (wizards have never bothered with such extraneous things as smoking bans). The barman nodded at them with a toothless grin and Conyeri stepped over what looked to be a shaggy otter on a lead, held by a surly-looking warlock with a green scar running through his lips. She gulped and shuffled past, wanting to be in the open air again. They emerged into the back alleyway, but apparently it was a busy day and the archway into Diagon Alley was already being opened by a squabbling family of four who seemed to hop between French and English too fast for Conyeri to understand. They walked through and the DeHayersaes strode behind them. Then, they stopped abruptly and gawped a bit before getting out a poorly drawn map of the street, arguing some more.

Unable to get past and feeling altruistic, David cleared his throat over their shoulder and spoke to them. "Hello- I see you're map isn't quite right. Do you need some help?"

"Oui." A harried-looking mother explained, gesturing to her son, who looked to her Conyeri's age. "Jonmarc ees going to 'Ogwarts zees year, but we ave no idea where all zee shops are."

Her American husband continued. "I'm afraid I work at the Embassy over in Paris, so we haven't been here before. My wife went to Beauxbatons, myself to Salem, but we managed to get Jonmarc a place at Hogwarts- it is the best wizarding school there is, you know."

"Indeed." David shook his hand. "David DeHayersae, Hogwarts graduate. This is my wife, Elizabeth, and my daughter, Conyeri."

"Henry Lucwitt. My wife, Madéline, you've already met, and these are my boys, Jonmarc and Pierre."

The two men squared up against one another, meeting eyes. "I'd love to show you around, since Conyeri is off to her first year, too."

"Really? That'd be awesome." The American man and his wife looked relieved. So it transpired that the two families navigated their shopping together. Jonmarc was dark and broody, huffing about and not talking to Conyeri, who was fine with it. She didn't much care for sulky boys anyway, and was far more interested in the kaleidoscope of experience that unfolded as she walked down the alley. She passed a shop full of tiny, intricate brass instruments that she really wanted until she found out that they were used in astronomy, but was distracted by a shop called Flourish & Blotts that was practically bursting at the seams with books. Her parents had to tear her away from the apothecary, and Jonmarc's likewise with a shop selling racing brooms. Typical boy, she thought as they reached their first port of call: Madam Malkin's. Neither family needed to take money out of the bank, and her parents just shuddered at the word Gringotts.

"I've worked with enough goblins in accounting to know that it's better to avoid them if possible." David had said.

"Zey are just going to grow out off zem by next year." Mrs. Lucwitt complained as the two children were fitted. "Best make zem very long."

"Always do for the first-years." Madam Malkin winked. "Now, pay attention you two. You have two sets of day robes, one to wear and one in the wash, two jumpers, two grey skirts for you, dear-" she handed them to Conyeri, "And two grey trousers for you, love." To Jonmarc, who just scowled. "Four white shirts, one winter cloak, one hat- you'll lose it on the first day, but Dumbledore won't hear any different- one school tie, two house ties- don't worry, they'll change from grey to your house colour once you're sorted- grey socks… that's about it. If you were after school shoes, I'd recommend Hides up the street- the cobblers. Name tags I leave up to you. All set?"

Madam Malkin had spoken very fast and although Conyeri followed, she could see Mrs. Lucwitt struggling, her husband simultaneously translating with a murmur. "Okay." He said in the end. "Kids, why don't you help get all of this stuff into bags while your mom and I pay?"

They carefully put the brand new uniforms into large paper bags that shouldn't have supported their weight but did. The two sets of parents paid Madam Malkin, and no sooner had the last bronze knut left Henry Lucwitt's hand than another gaggle of Hogwarts students had entered. They left the shop into the hot summer sunshine and went next to buy cauldrons (with the two dads arguing over the merits of self-stirring versus whirlpool model), and some nice brass weighing scales. A basic starter kit at the apothecary, a dead beetle in Jonmarc's hair and the ensuing hilarity later, at least the two children were talking. Jonmarc's English was good, but he was embarrassed by his accent and apprehensive about being away from home, he explained quietly. After that they got on well, taking turns slipping fish eyes into Pierre's pockets without getting caught. Conyeri even managed not to break any of the set of glass phials that they bought at Tinkleman's Fragiles next door.

"Ah, the smell of a hundred thousand charms and curses." David grinned as they entered Flourish & Blotts, navigating a stream of other shoppers. "The new Rhonsus Carimad book is out, Liz."

"Is it?" His wife walked over to the display. "I do so very much enjoy these."

"My treat." He picked one up and they set about the book buying. Conyeri had already inherited her father's old set, but he'd misplaced his copy of A Beginner's guide to Transfiguration in his second year (he had a funny feeling it had been eaten by the strangely thick carpet on the languages corridor), so they needed to buy one of those, and recently added to the first-year curriculum was introduction to Arithmancy, which would be short-lived, but it still necessitated them buying Gloria Wembellin's Maths Can be Magical. He also splashed out additionally on a copy of Hogwarts: A History. The Lucwitts came out with their purses significantly lighter and their bags heavier, carrying all of Jonmarc's books.

"Right… Collapsible telescope is all we need now."

"And a wand."

"Of course!" Henry grinned, hitting his head comically. "Ma chérie, l'astronomie est votre egion, n'est-ce pas?"

"Oui." Madéline answered. "Eleezabeth, shall you come with me to buy zees telescopes?"

"Of course." Conyeri's mother smiled, knowing that a wand shop was no place for a muggle. "We'll meet you outside Leavenloaf's?"

"Wouldn't miss it." They parted, Madéline taking little Pierre with her; he would have to wait his turn in a few years. Conny clutched her father's hand as the four of them approached a dingy shop with peeling paint, its windows filled with dusty boxes of coloured silk. She looked through the grubby window and gulped. This was it.


	3. Chapter 2

This chapter is tiny, so I'll upload the next one too. Thank you to those who alerted/favourited, you make my life happy. I'm also thinking of uploading two chapters a week because drawing this out is killing me.

Please take time to review; it makes me happy.

Disclaimer: As previously stated, I am making no profit out of writing this fanfiction, nor do I own any rights to Harry Potter and associated trademarks.

Chapter Two: Miss DeHayersae and Mr. Lucwitt

The fathers and their children cautiously entered Ollivander's, the little bell tinkling strangely distantly. Mr. Ollivander himself was seated behind his desk, hands stained with ink and his spectacles perched dangerously on the end of his large nose. He didn't raise his eyes as they approached his desk.

"Conyeri Catherine DeHayersae and Jonmarc Martín Lucwitt." He smiled. "An unlikely combination, but not an unwelcome one."

He set down his quill and turned around to the shelves, a tape measure zooming from his back pocket and measuring the two children by itself. "David, was it? I remember your wand… Mahogany, fourteen and a half inches… dragon heartstring? A particularly amiable wand, if I recall correctly. Something similar for the girl, perhaps?" he cast a glance over his shoulder and frowned. "No, that won't do… Ah, but you, yes, you…" he pulled a box from a low shelf. "Monsieur Jonmarc, try this one, if you will."

The young French wizard gingerly lifted the wand from its velvet box and, instantly, smiled, a warm wave of hot air radiating from him. "First time- I _am_ getting good. Yew and unicorn hair, eleven inches, quite rigid."

Jonmarc looked to his father, who smiled and nodded. Conyeri gulped, hoping hers would be as quick. Ollivander pulled a long, swishy wand and asked her to try it, but it felt like dead wood in her hand. He frowned, zipping off to the back of the shop and returning with another three boxes. They were all duds. "Perhaps I am not thinking originally enough." He mused, whishing off again and not returning for several minutes, carrying a small dark green box. "Many the enigmatic or especially individual witch or wizard requires a wand accordingly. Here- Ash, twelve inches, sphinx whisker."

"S-sphinx?" she asked timidly, remembering the pictures she'd seen of Egypt in books.

"Yes." Ollivander chuckled and fixed his large eyes on her. "I damn nearly died getting a handful of her whiskers. Try it."

Conyeri picked the wand up and felt a curiously cold feeling spread up her arm. As if her hand knew what to do, she flicked the wand with a small flourish and a curl of dark smoke issued from the tip, swirling and forming into a tiny, ethereal bird before flying away and through the glass of the front window. "Oh, superb! A good wand for an inquisitive mind, my dear."

"It is seven galleons for Jonmarc's, eight galleons ten sickles for Conyeri's." He then said, brisk and back to business. The fathers paid accordingly and they got out of the musty shop as soon as possible, Conyeri and Jonmarc with their wands clutched in their hands. David remembered how excited he'd been when he'd come out of Ollivander's over twenty-five years ago. There wasn't quite anything that compared.

"Well, that's a wrap!" Henry grinned as they strolled down towards Leavenloaf's. "I tell ya, I'm damn glad you guys showed up, else we'd be here until tomorrow!"

"It's no problem." David replied. "Are you in the country long?"

"We came for a couple weeks to vacation, but we're going back in a few days. When the time comes for Jonmarc to go to school, I'm apparating him into London."

Jonmarc shivered. "I 'ate apparating. It feels like you're turning inside out."

"I've never done it." Conyeri said. "But if it's anything like floo powder, I agree. I wish wizards would invent some kind of comfortable way of travelling."

"Opefully zis train to Ogwarts will be nice." He said quietly, and then scowled, hitting himself on the head. "_H_opefully _th_is train to _H_ogwarts, I mean."

"I like your accent." She said, but he stuck his tongue out.

"I don't want to be zee only one who doesn't speak proper engleesh."

"It won't matter. I think you'll pick up an accent in no time, living with lots of English people."

"I ope so."

"_H_ope." She corrected teasingly, sending him into a rage. They chased each other around a cart full of living apples and continued on around their fathers, who talked amiably about their school lives.

Leavenloaf's was a large golden building, with several wide doors at slightly odd angles that were always open. The smell of baking wafted out onto the street, along with some enchanted napkins that were swooping lazily about, chasing pigeons away by diving at them. Conyeri, Jonmarc and their fathers were called over to where Madéline and Elizabeth were sipping impossibly frothy drinks and fiddling with two very handsome brass telescopes. The French witch was explaining the influence of planetary presence on the potency of different herbs, and kept lapsing back into her mother tongue mid-sentence, but luckily Conyeri's mother was nearly fluent, so there was no love lost between them. David ordered his parfait; Pierre insisted on a terrifying cream bun that kept looking shiftily at him with little raisin eyes. Conyeri and Jonmarc shared a piping hot cherry turnover that made them feel icky and had to be washed down with chocolate milk. The two families joked and bonded, and by the time the sun was low in the sky, they didn't want to say goodbye.

"Good meeting you." David shook Henry's hand again and the men smiled at each other. Their wives hugged and exchanged addresses so that they could correspond by owl post, and Conyeri and Jonmarc promised to meet up on the train so that neither of them was alone when it came to the start of term. Once out of the Leaky Cauldron and into muggle London, they split up, the DeHayersaes returning home on the tube, the Lucwitts going back to their hotel. Everything was very relaxed and jolly, and Conyeri couldn't wait to go through her new stuff. After a dinner of cottage pie and green beans, the family watched television for a while together before going to bed, anticipating the coming months.


	4. Chapter 3

Another short chapter, but I promise they get longer.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no money from this.

Chapter Three: All aboard the Hogwarts Express

"Hurry up!" Elizabeth called from downstairs, balancing her handbag on her knee while applying mascara in the bathroom mirror. "David, stop fiddling around and get the trunk down here!"

With a thud, followed by several clunks and a crash, David appeared at the top of the stairs, sweating as the dragged Conyeri's heavy trunk along the landing. "What have you got in here, honey? Goblins?"

"A whole family!" Conyeri grinned, materializing from nowhere. David's heart swelled with pride to see her. She looked so much like him: manageably curly auburn hair and wonderful dark brown eyes, the same eyes that Mr. Smith had looked into and seen such merriment. Any now his little girl was going to be a Hogwarts student! He wanted nothing more than to let her go and grow up to be a fine witch, as he himself had, but at the same time he wanted to hold onto her as tightly as possible. Oh, how he'd miss his daughter! By the tears brimming in Elizabeth's eyes, she felt the same way.

The family managed to get Conyeri's trunk downstairs and out into the street, although David had performed a discreet locomotor charm to get it most of the way. They wheeled it behind them as they set out on Conyeri's penultimate train journey of the summer, from the nearby Paddington station- a quick journey on the Hammersmith and City line to King's Cross. The station was packed as usual with hundreds of wizarding families ready to send their children off to Hogwarts; David vaguely remembered that the Hogwarts Express took on passengers around Manchester, having read it in Hogwarts: A History, but for some strange reason he never remembered the train stopping at all. Odd.

"Oh, Molly, I'm so proud of him!" A handsome redheaded man hugged his heavily pregnant wife as he pushed a trolley for his equally ginger son. "Now, Bill, we just have to walk through the wall here- I'll go first and mum will come after you."

The man winked and strode towards a non-descript patch of wall, then paused before disappearing through it completely. Conyeri, used to magical things, smiled and wondered how it worked- surely muggles would lean on or touch the wall sooner or later? She supposed she'd have to ask someone.

"Conny, you see what that man just did?"

"Yes."

"We'll wait for his family to go through first; that's polite, then follow." David grinned, secretly yearning for another seven years at Hogwarts. He hummed to himself as the redheaded man's son tentatively approached the barrier and gasped as his outstretched hand slipped through, and then vanished completely. Perhaps, David thought, he should go back. He did after all have a T.O.A.D. (Terribly Obnoxious Academic Diploma) in Magical Art, though he'd heard that it was a subject losing popularity. Perhaps he should suggest himself for a post? Renew interest in it?

He chuckled and shook himself. Today was Conyeri's day, not his. He took her hand and they crossed through to Platform 9 and ¾ together. He'd given Elizabeth a quick hug and promised to be back soon. Muggles couldn't cross through the barrier: they'd meet a brick wall. It saddened him that there were many ways in which his wife could not be part of his world, but he loved her and wouldn't let that stand between them.

Conyeri grinned, looking at the bright red steam train. "I really get to ride on that?"

"Of course. Six times a year, if you don't stay holidays." He chivvied her up, seeing that it was close on eleven. "Now, Conyeri. Promise me you'll be good, okay?"

"I'm, always good." She pouted in reply.

"I know, sweetheart. Don't ask too many personal questions, either. Think before you speak."

"You've said that a hundred times." She wasn't exaggerating. David often had to shut his daughter up to stop her making awkward observations. She couldn't half talk! "But okay, I'll try."

"Make lots of friends, okay?"

"I will. But no boys." She wrinkled her nose and smiled. "Except maybe Jonmarc, but he's cool."

David chuckled and handed her trunk over to a smiling attendant who carted it onto the train impatiently. The whistles were going, so he gave his daughter a kiss and a final hug before she jumped onto the train and the attendant slammed the door behind her. "Bye, Daddy!"

"Have fun, darling!" He waved to her as the train began to slowly inch forward off the platform. Conyeri watched her father get smaller as the Hogwarts Express gathered speed and entered a few brief minutes of underground tunnels before emerging north of London. The first-year finally detached herself from the window and sought out a compartment for herself. Everyone seemed so much taller than her- and bigger, and rowdier. She supposed that the merry atmosphere that seemed to cover the whole wizarding world was due to You-Know-Who disappearing last year, but, as she was shoved into the corridor wall by a group of burly play-fighting Hufflepuff boys, Conyeri wished they'd be at least a little less energetic.

She found a compartment with two other first-years in and asked if she could sit down. An amused-looking Asian girl gestured for her to go for it.

"Before you ask, I'm Lucy Ra and I only just met this guy now." The girl said in a frightening Estuary accent, prodding the fair-haired, chubby boy beside her. "What was your name again, fatty?"

"Corfax Nimmle." He said quietly, frowning at her before turning to Conyeri. "Lucy isn't very nice, but she's so smart. She did a spell- show her your spell, Lucy."

The girl grinned and produced a long, dark wand with a flourish. "_Avifors_!" she said, flicking her wand in a circular motion. A familiar plume of blue smoke erupted from the tip and formed a small, chirpy bird that fluttered about, much to Corfax's childish delight.

"That was what my wand did when I first got it." She said curiously. "It's pretty."

"I can do something too!" The chubby boy said, trying to draw attention back to himself. "Dad said he found a spellbook in the attic of a house he repossessed, and he let me see it." He looked at the confusion on the two girls' faces and explained. "I'm muggleborn."

"With a name like that?"

"Eccentric parents." He said it like it was a phrase he'd learned from a dictionary and rehearsed often. "But anyway, look- _lumos!_"

Conyeri squinted as a weak ball of light lit the tip of his wand. It was a really basic spell- one of the first in her textbook, but she shared a look with Lucy and they decided to humour him. Although Lucy was mean, she wasn't an all out bully, and would gladly wait for some other boys to pick on Corfax once he got to school. Her neighbourhood hadn't been good like Conyeri's, and she'd seen what bullies could do to a person. "That's nice, too."

They sat chatting for a while, but Jonmarc found them just as they slipped past Oxford. Conyeri introduced him, but he was awfully shy and sat close to her, explaining that he'd been ousted from his own carriage by some Slytherin fourth-years who had looked ready to kill. "I don't want to be in Slytherin." Conyeri said out loud as he explained it. "My dad was is Hufflepuff, so I'll have to wait and see."

"Two parents, four brothers in Ravenclaw, no way I'm going anywhere else." Lucy winked and played with her little smoke bird for a while. "Though I'd like to see what Gryffindor is like. You know they're supposed to be the 'good' house."

"Being really good would be boring, though." Conyeri replied and the two troublemakers shared a look. "But I don't want to be evil."

"Don't worry over it." Lucy said dismissively and yawned. "Now, anyone want a game of exploding snap?"


	5. Chapter 4

This chapter is very long :) And introduces us to the school year and the characters a little better. Thank you to those who read and alerted/faved/reviewed.

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I making any money out of the Harry Potter franchise.

Chapter Four: Cell Forty-Seven, Azkaban Prison, North Sea

The sun rose and fell in the sky as the crimson train sped northwards. The woman with the sweet trolley came along and Corfax gorged himself, and then began feeling very sick and waddled off to the toilets, not returning until they were up past Edinburgh looking decidedly greener and refusing to talk in long sentences. Conyeri didn't mind. She talked a bit with Lucy, who she found out was half-Egyptian but lived in London with her four older brothers, wizards in varying states of arrest. Her parents had been curse-breakers who'd travelled Egypt in search of fantastic riches, and Conyeri privately thought that this sounded much more interesting than a PR representative, like her dad was. Lucy herself was all right, although she was sly and a troublemaker. They tried to coax a bit more out of Jonmarc, but he just muttered that trains disagreed with his stomach and fell asleep early on.

"We should get changed." Lucy yawned and stretched like a cat, looking out into the dusk. "Corfax, go away so we can change."

"Why me and not Jonmarc?"

"He's asleep, duh." They ushered him out and got into their new uniform slowly, relishing the newness of it. Conyeri's skirt was a bit stiff, but she felt very smart otherwise, fastening her robes and deciding against the pointed black hat for now (she'd only put it on when absolutely necessary), and did a little twirl. Lucy scowled and told her to sit down. "Don't be too girly or I'll be sick like fatty was."

"Don't call him that, it'll hurt his feelings." Conyeri replied, fixing the streetwise girl with a look. "And besides, after he threw up all that food he was very slim!"

They shared a laugh and let Corfax back inside, who proceeded to change into his robes with minimal fuss in the corner. Lucy and Conyeri took turns conjuring spiders up Jonmarc's nose before he woke up with a cry and angrily cursed at them in French, which only Corfax could speak well enough to understand. He went very pale and murmured an apology despite not actually being a culprit. The huffy French boy then left the carriage with his uniform, saying something about changing in the toilets to get away from 'stupeed briteesh _couchons_', leaving the three other first years to giggle and then spend twenty minutes trying to clear their compartment of spiders.

"I'm actually feeling sick, I'm so excited." Conyeri said, distracted from the game of ping-pong they were playing around the compartment by flicking their wants at a ball of paper that was flying through the air. "I want to meet the giant squid."

"I want to learn to hex the pants off my brothers." Lucy grinned, making Corfax nervous. "Wanna be my practice partner, fatty?"

"I'm fine, thanks." He shuffled away from her. "And anyway, I'm not that good at magic. I only discovered it two years ago, and I haven't had any practice like you two have."

"Easier to hex someone who doesn't hex back." Lucy said sagely, looking out the window. "I'm just joking, mate."

It didn't sound like she was, but the boy relaxed enough to allow conversation. It was only when a smattering of stars had settled in the dark sky outside that the Hogwarts Express began to slow down. For a few moments there was a lull in which sleepers and nappers woke, daydreamers shook themselves and first-years paused expectantly. All of a sudden, a clamour broke out, with students piling into the corridors, pushing up against one another trying to get out. Lucy urged Conyeri to leave her trunk and then disembarked in a chain, the four children holding hands to avoid being lost in the rush. They were pulled out of the scrum on the Hogsmeade platform by a giant of a man, with a surprising amount of facial hair and a strong West Country accent, "Firs' years! Over 'ere, firs' years!"

"Oof!" Conyeri gasped as he dropped her back down onto the floor. "Merlin, that nearly killed me!"

"Don' go takin' 'is name in vain." The giant grumbled, plucking another hapless eleven year old from the crowd and setting him down nearby. "An' anyways, kids your age're too young ter be cussin'."

"Sorry." She said, but stuck her tongue out when his back was turned.

"Firs' years, follow me, an' don' go runnin' off nowhere, 'right?"

The crowd of around forty students, all of whom were at most half as tall as the giant, who identified himself as Hagrid, skittered off from the rest of the students, who were being taken in horseless carriages the short distance from Hogsmeade to the castle, but as it turned out, tradition was that first-years took small enchanted boats across the lake to view the castle in all its evening glory for the first time. Conyeri got into a boat with Jonmarc, Lucy, and an energetic Scottish girl with wonderful and wild dark red hair who whistled to herself merrily and kept poking her hand in the water hoping for an appearance of the giant squid.

The castle was truly beautiful, day or night: now, in the chilly darkness, every window was lit up a brilliant gold, some blue, others red or green, lighting the walls a multitude of colours. Conyeri, like the others, gawped at the sheer size of the place: in the cramped streets of London, such a thing couldn't have existed. The giant squid made an appearance as they were nearing the grotto that led up some slippery steps to a dingy room that acted as an antechamber to the Entrance Hall. It didn't do much, but it did oblige the Scottish girl by allowing her to pet the tip of one of its tentacles before gliding away.

"Rite, make sure ye don't slip 'ere." Hagrid boomed, helping children out of their boats, having to make extra effort for the somewhat podgy Corfax Nimmle. "Now, be careful up 'em stairs- not like tha'." Hagrid frowned as a small boy slipped and fell on his face further up. "Nice an' quiet like, fer Professor McGonagall."

"Daddy told me about her." Conyeri whispered to Jonmarc, who was sweating slightly with nervousness. "Apparently she's really tough."

"Brilliant." The French boy mumbled, wiping his brow. "Zees is going to be orrible."

"_H_orrible." She corrected.

A large set of rusty iron doors opened for them at the top of the slimy steps and the children were ushered into a musty room. A witch in dark purple robes stood eerily still at the top of a set of smooth stairs, surveying them, only her eyes moving. Atop her head sat a marvellous pointed purple hat with a plume of silver feathers, and Conyeri privately thought that she looked almost god-like. Once all of them had filed in and Hagrid had saluted the woman and closed the doors with his heaving hands, silence fell like the dust that covered the room.

The woman sniffed and moved suddenly, seeming to move from her position at the top of the stairs to much lower down, near the frightened students. "Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress." Conyeri took back her earlier comment: this woman didn't look tough; she looked positively terrifying. "In a few moments, we will leave this room and enter the Great Hall. You will line up like proper young adults and wait for your name to be called. Then, you will approach the Sorting Hat, place it on your head and wait for its decision. Understood?"

There was a weak murmur from the first-years. McGonagall stiffened. "I said, it that understood?"

"Yes, Professor!" The chorused back nervously. A thin smile cracked the woman's lips.

"Good. We shall enter, then."

With a sweep of her cloak, the door at the top of the stairs opened and they followed skittishly into the Entrance Hall, glimpsing the splendour of the Great Hall through the huge doorway that was flung open. McGonagall led them up the central aisle, and Conyeri had plenty of time to look around. The Hall was festooned with banners and drapes, with concentrated pockets of house colours above the four packed long tables, intermingled with Hogwarts colours and some drapes that seemed to be there for no reason at all. Conny noticed a beach towel on the far wall, along with a chain of odd socks that was hung along one of the windows. Candles floated around and routinely set fire to these cloth ornaments, whereupon an older student or prefect would lazily extinguish it with a flick of their wand. At the Teacher's table, the staff sat watching with their sagacious eyes twinkling. Albus Dumbledore headed the table, today in magenta robes and a matching fez, smile warm and welcoming. Next to him, McGonagall's seat was empty. Conyeri surveyed the teachers, already deciding which she did and didn't like the look of. A cheery blonde man was engrossed in conversation with the woman beside him, who had dark, flowing hair and an outstandingly beautiful face. A greasy, grumbling young man sat alone black robes at the end of the table, his face a permanent sneer. They were a strange bunch.

The hubbub quietened down immediately when McGonagall stepped up next to a plain stool upon which was sitting a hat. Instead of McGonagall speaking, the hat's brim ripped open and it burst into song in a pleasing tenor.

"_Another year has now begun_

_Of learning at our school_

_But woe the child who prizes fun_

_He will become a fool._

_For in these halls we aim to teach_

_To learn, to play, to smile_

_The greatest heights towards we reach_

_With courage through our trials._

_With talk of courage comes the house_

_Of dignity and pride_

_You'll never find a Gryffindor_

_Who's ever wont to lie._

_So shall I sort you to this house?_

_For that is my import_

_To put you with your closest kin_

_In mind and soul and thought._

_With thoughts come fairest Ravenclaw-_

_Who values wit and grace_

_Or Hufflepuff, of honest law,_

_Which is your rightful place?_

_Do not forget sly Slytherin_

_The cunning, bold and quick_

_Is this the house your soul desires?_

_Is this which I should pick?_

_So feel not anxious, young and brave,_

_Don't worry in the least!_

_The quicker I am on your head_

_The sooner we can feast!"_

The hall broke into happy applause as the hat finished singing, and Conyeri's head was spinning. She really didn't know where she wanted to be. She liked the sound of all of the houses, since the sorting hat talked about their good qualities, but she had to weigh this with the gossip she'd heard. Once the applause died down, she didn't have much time, since McGonagall immediately started reading names off a list.

"Aritt, Mark!" She barked, and Mark Aritt, a jolly boy with long arms, tried to look his most confident as he walked up to the stool, put on the hat and waited. A few tense seconds passed before the hat jolted into action and yelled:

"Gryffindor!"

The table swathed in gold and red erupted into applause and Mark was welcomed to a place on the table by smiling upperclassmen. They looked nice, Conyeri thought, and so did the Hufflepuffs, who welcomed the next girl, "Aster, Marian!"

Both "Borridge, Maximillian!" and "Buckingham, Kenneth!" followed, the first into Slytherin, the second to Gryffindor. A skinny welsh boy named Ralphus Crymge was the first Ravenclaw. "Dannat, Rebecca!" was next, and Conyeri knew what was coming and braced herself.

"DeHayersae, Conyeri!" McGonagall barked, and Conny winced. She didn't much fancy having her father's very wizardy surname. She stepped forward out of the crowd, careful not to trip on her robes, which, as by Madéline Lucwitt's specifications, were ridiculously long. She sat tentatively on the stool and picked the hat up, gazed at it for a second, and then brought it down over her head. Disconcertingly, she could feel it moving.

"_Why hello there, Miss DeHayersae. Ah, Davey's daughter? Then by all means it should be Hufflepuff."_

Conyeri was overtaken by a sudden thought and shook her head. "I don't want to be there."

"_No?_" the hat chuckled, which flattened her ears painfully. "_You are certainly outspoken, though. Quick-witted, ambitious without malice. And smart- very smart. It could be any of them, Conyeri._"

He paused for a few seconds and she froze, remembering the whole hall was watching. The exchange between her and the hat only took about ten seconds, and after a moment it smiled.

"_Very well then." _Clearing its throat, the hat yelled out: "Ravenclaw!"

An immense wave of relief washed through her. She stumbled up and removed the hat, thanking it quietly, before taking a seat among the throng of bronze and blue that was the Ravenclaw table. Two very nice older boys offered her a space between them.

"Nice to have you." They greeted her, but grew silent to watch the rest of the sorting. Conyeri turned on her bench too, hoping that her new friends joined her house as well.

As the crowd of first-years began to thin out, and after a bulky boy named "Lockhart, Gilderoy!" she heard Jonmarc's name called. The hat chuckled as soon as he placed it on his head, presumably said something, and Jonmarc huffed and pointed over to her table. The hat gave a resigned sigh and placed him in Ravenclaw.

"Jon!" she smiled and asked the older boys to make space next to her for him. He blushed and sat down, thanking them. "What did it say?"

"Eet said that I should improve my Engleesh." His cheeks burned. "And I said you would elp me, so it put me ere."

"Good to have you, mate!" the table laughed. A smiling girl further down the table said something to him in French and got them all started. Jonmarc beamed and was suddenly not shy any more, with all these people speaking his language.

"How do you all know French?" Conny asked.

"Hogwarts has many languages courses." One of the boys explained in English for her benefit. "In Ravenclaw, we generally ask that a student takes at least one extra language for at least the first year, and more often than not they like it enough and keep going."

"I'm going for Arabic this year." A girl piped up as a weedy boy- "Martin, Jacob!" was sorted. "Luke, you're doing German, right?"

"Yes." One of the boys beside Conyeri said. "It's damn hard. I'd rather do a hundred Runes essays that read a book in German."

"Complainer." His friend on Conyeri's other side said, but they hushed again. The boisterous Scottish girl from the boat- apparently Rosanne McAvery by McGonagall's shouting- was sorted into Gryffindor. After her came a pair of twins, Derek and Clarissa Mothley. Interestingly, Derek was sorted into Ravenclaw and came to sit quietly at the end of the table, but his sister joined Slytherin house, causing some murmurs. Conyeri deduced that it was unusual for siblings to be put in different houses.

"Nimmle, Corfax!" Came next, bumbling up and hardly having to wait before the hat proclaimed him a Hufflepuff. He went and sat next to Marian Aster. A few students later, Lucy was called up, all jaunty smile and confidence. Jamming the hat onto her dark, straight hair, she waited a few seconds before, as predicted, the hat cried: "Ravenclaw!"

She came over and joined their little band, her grin showing pearly teeth. "Told ya."

"Lucy Ra?" One of the Ravenclaws asked, looking her up and down. "Ra, as in, the Ra Brothers?"

"One and only." She picked up the cutlery curiously, as though appraising it, thinking she might nick some. "Guess I have a reputation to live up to."

"_Down_ to, more like." Another person snorted. Conyeri made a mental note to ask about this later. The last few people were sorted, including the ginger boy that Conyeri had followed through to Platform 9 and ¾, identified as William Weasley, and, with the hat hardly touching his wild red hair, he ended up in Gryffindor.

Professor Dumbledore signalled for silence with the soft tinkle of a spoon on his goblet. He stood up; showing the marvellous pattern-work on his robes- two dragons engaged in an epic battle- and cleared his throat.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts." He began. Conyeri decided that he had the kind of voice that moved nations- wise, charming and confident. He was no ordinary old man. "And our first new year free from the shadow of Lord Voldemort."

Many people shivered hearing that name, mostly teachers and older students. Conny was too young to really comprehend the enormous evil of the Dark Lord's crusade, but knew well not to speak his name. "Therefore, I would like to announce proudly that this year Hogwarts will be holding our own intra-school All-England Wizarding Duelling Competition!"

Riotous applause followed this announcement. Older students fingered their wands in anticipation; the Duelling Club had yet to be established, and aside from irregular events organized by other clubs or vengeful skirmishes between students, there wasn't much chance to duel other wizards and witches. Everybody was feeling happy and passionate after You-Know-Who's fall, and what better way to challenge their fighting spirit than through organized dueling?

"Many thanks for your enthusiasm." He chortled, effortlessly pulling their attention back to him. "May I remind you that the Forbidden Forest is and always will be out of bounds and that this year, several different brands of enchanted quill, including but not limited to Lewd-Letter, Smart-Answer and Doodle-Deleting varieties have been banned from the school. A comprehensive list of banned items can be found with Mr. Filch."

Several Ravenclaws near Conyeri expressed contempt at the idea of spelling a quill to do one's dirty work, and she wondered just how smart they all were. Dumbledore continued. "I am pleased, also, to welcome Professor Aurora Sinistra to our faculty, as a teacher of Astronomy replacing Professor Aldebaran, and also Professor Severus Snape as Potions Master, and Professor Aleitheas Killory as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and Head of Slytherin House."

Professor Sinistra, a young, attractive black woman in light green robes, tipped her hat to the students, a few older male ones hooting at her. Conyeri managed to find Professor Snape, the greasy man on the end of the table, but apparently Professor Killory was not present. Dumbledore spoke again. "But now, I must ask you all to do something of paramount importance- eat!"

With his words, Conyeri had to jerk her elbow away as a steaming pile of chicken appeared where it had been seconds earlier. Her father had often moved food directly from the oven to the table, but this… this was magnificent. The tables were piled high with food until they groaned under the weight. She wanted four more stomachs; the boys beside her seemed not to mind, and took anything they could grab. She helped herself to mashed potatoes, a fillet of beef that was still sizzling slightly on its hot-plate, a heap of absolutely gorgeous caramelized carrots, some chicken pie, anything she could get her hands on: it was all amazing. For the first couple of minutes the whole hall was filled with the sounds of eating; Jonmarc gleefully tucked into a plate of snails that seemed to have been cooked just for him in a creamy garlic and herb butter. Conyeri stole one off his plate and popped the meat part in her mouth experimentally, much to his protest. "Yum." She managed through a mouthful of food.

"I'm gunna be as fat as Corfax at this rate." Lucy groaned as a fifth-year recommended she try the honey-braised Horklumps. "Lend me your stomach, Conny?"

"I'm going to need all of it for myself, I'm afraid." She giggled, helping herself to some sauté potatoes. "What's the juice?"

"Pumpkin." Someone answered. "It's traditional, though you can go down to the kitchens and ask for something else when you eat."

"Kitchens?"

"Where all the house elves work. They're a wonderful lot; they'll give you any food you want." His voice was lost in a mouthful of salmon after that. Conversation was jovial and interesting through the whole feast. Conyeri, sitting there, felt like she was being included. As an only child, she hadn't experienced what it felt like to be so close with people, but she enjoyed it.

Soon after the students had devoured nearly all the main courses, puddings appeared, along with a groan from the student body. Conyeri had some bread and butter pudding and a banana, and a short conversation with Ravenclaw's house ghost, the Grey Lady, before the feast ended. Feeling slightly befuddled with all the food, she listened to someone at the top table, who may or may not have been Dumbledore, and then was swept up in the tide of students leaving the Great Hall. One of the boys next to her- Luke- turned out to be a prefect and rounded the first-years up.

"Okay, guys, I'm going to show you the way to the Ravenclaw Tower now. It's quite complicated, but with our house's renowned sense of logic you should get it okay." He led them up the massive staircase in the Entrance Hall and to the left, leading into the west portion of the castle. The first-years, while the more magical of them were used to moving portraits, had never seen quite so many that were quite so fine. A portly philosopher commanded Jonmarc to tie his laces up as they reached the third floor, and later on a group of teenage wizards from the seventeenth century made some rather risqué comments about a female prefect that was with them, who rebutted with a painful-looking jinx that caused what looked like warts to spring up all over the painting.

"Once you're on the fifth floor, make sure to stick to this corridor. You should see a spiral staircase to your left- yes, that one you just walked past, kid- follow me up it."

They emerged from the staircase in an airy commons; a circular room with a few small windows, inhabited by chairs and desks, along with several chess and Gobstones tables. "This is Ravenclaw Commons. We usually spend our free time in here, if meeting with people not in our house. You can work, read, or play games here."

He led them through the commons to another staircase. "This leads up to the Ravenclaw tower." The stairs were impossibly tiny and steep, and the first-years were huffing and puffing by the time they reached a small, dark landing. Its only feature was an unassuming door with a large, ornate knocker in the shape of an eagle. As Luke approached it, its beak twitched and it came to life, ruffling its bronze wings as though it had been resting for a long time.

"Mmmm." It croaked in a pleasant voice. "Good evening, Master Niall."

"Good evening to you too, Charlie." Luke answered the bird. "This is Charles, the guardian of our Tower. You have to answer his question right before you can get into the Common Room and dorms."

They muttered at this. Lucy said something about other houses only having passwords.

"Indeed, my new friends." The knocker appeared to grin. "This first time, I shall let you all in if Master Niall answers his question, though."

A communal sigh of relief rose from the tired and overfed first-years. Luke grinned and motioned for the knocker to ask his question.

"I bind two people, but touch only one. What am I?"

Conyeri considered the riddle, but was surprised when Jonmarc laughed next to her and blurted something in French.

"_Un anneau_."

The knocker cocked its head and everyone turned to him. "_Un anneau, monsieur Lucwitt_?"

"_Oui."_

"_Correctement_." The knocker chuckled and his door swung open, but Luke and the first-years gawped at Jonmarc.

"You solved a prefect's riddle." He said, clearly impressed if not a bit ticked off at having his glory stolen by an eleven year old. "Well, good going, I suppose. Follow me."

The Ravenclaw Common Room gave the impression of being amazingly spacious and airy but also comfy and snug. Cushy navy armchairs surrounded low coffee tables and sat near several fires burning in marvelously tooled grates; hard, high-backed chairs also sat neatly tucked under polished hardwood tables. They were the first in here- a sense of freshness and solace pervaded the room. The curtains were drawn, but the view must have been exhilarating.

"Wow! Look up!" Someone gasped, and Conyeri turned her eyes to the domed roof. It was a deep, velvety blue that swallowed her up, punctuated with tiny crystals that glowed with white light. She saw that they had been connected by faint white lines, and realized that she was looking at a map of the skies. Every star and planet was there, and, as she watched, some of them moved; a shooting star broke away and zoomed across, winking in and out of life, eliciting an appreciative 'ooh!' from the first years.

"Don't spend too long looking at it, or you'll get a headache." Luke warned. "Kids have been known to get occasionally hit by a stray shooting star too, and that can hurt when it goes in your eye."

"Nice to know…" Lucy giggled, looking around the room at the tapestries and drapes that hung around. "Who's that guy?"

She pointed to the portrait of a stately looking man with a wild rim of white hair and a monocle who was peering at them. He raised his impressive eyebrows and spoke back to Lucy. "I, my dear, am Professor Fronsac, once Headmaster of this school."

"Cool!" She ran over and prodded him, much to Luke's protests. "Will you help me with my homework?"

"Certainly not!" He huffed, turning away before walking out of the tapestry and starting a conversation with a beautiful portrait of Helena Ravenclaw. Conyeri noticed that she looked very like the ghost she'd talked to earlier.

"Best not get on the wrong side of Professor Fronsac; he'll make your time in the Common Room miserable." Luke warned, but Lucy just grinned and rejoined the group. "As I was about to say: girls' dorms up the stairs to my right, boys to my left. Do not try going in the opposite gender's dorms, please. Breakfast is at seven-thirty, lessons start at nine. The timetables will be handed out tomorrow. Now, don't stay up too late, okay?"

They mumbled their reply and thanked him, all of them moving to their respective dormitories. Conyeri and Lucy bade farewell to Jonmarc, who was still a little pink from the attention he'd received. The two girls climbed yet another spiral staircase to a large dressing room that had begun to fill with other girls in Ravenclaw. Mirrors and small chairs were dotted about the room: presumably it was for getting ready and presentable before they had to face the boys. A kindly third-year girl with slick black hair pointed them to the first-year dorm, one of many doors leading off the central chamber. It was a miniature turret off the main tower, and thus circular, with six four-poster beds. Conyeri noticed her trunk and gravitated towards the bed it had been placed beside. She realized that all of her clothes and books had been unpacked into the chest of drawers and cupboard next to her bed. Well, she thought smugly, that saves me doing the work.

"What d'you think of it all, then?" Conny asked as Lucy squealed with delight at how soft her bed was. The inner-city girl grinned and bounded over, inspecting Conny's stuff.

"It's awesome. I can't wait for all of it."

"I hope classes are fun. What subjects are you interested in?"

Lucy shrugged and began changing into her nightdress. "I like the look of Charms, and Potions, but my brothers all failed Transfiguration, so it must be really hard." She chuckled. "Then again, my brothers failed nearly everything."

"Is it nice?"

"What?" Lucy's nightdress was grey and new looking, with a cartoon owl on the front. "Having siblings?"

"Yes. I'm an only child."

"It's alright, I suppose. They all protect me and spoil me, so that's nice, but my brothers aren't exactly model citizens. I worry about them."

Conyeri idly wondered just what the Ra Brothers were up to, but decided to wait until she knew Lucy better. She yawned and remembered how drowsy she was. Changing into her blue pyjamas, she stretched and brushed her teeth in the sink they had to all share. Another group of girls came in from the dressing room- four of them. They said hi, and Conyeri tried to remember all their names but she was awfully sleepy. There was Rebecca Dannat that she remembered from the sorting, and the others just slipped her mind as she collapsed into bed, falling asleep almost immediately. Lucy sighed and read a book for a while before blowing out their candle, chuckling as Conyeri clutched a teddy to her chest. A frown then crossed the pretty Egyptian girl's face and she sighed, taking out a fresh sheet of parchment and a quill.

_Cell Forty-Seven, Azkaban Prison, North Sea_

Her hand trembled and a drop of ink spilled onto the page. Lucy ran her free hand through her hair and bit her lip, turning around to make sure the other girls were asleep before continuing.

_Dear Khai,_

_I'm finally at Hogwarts! It was quite a trip, but everyone is nice enough. I'm in Ravenclaw, like mum and dad, and everyone still remembers you. I met some friends, a girl called Conny (If forgot her full name, it's one of those old wizarding names that you can't spell), a French boy called Jonmarc who doesn't speak much, and a fat boy called Corfax. He reminds me of Jahnen (but don't tell him that, he'll kill me even if I am his little sister!), but he's alright. I hope you're all right and they let you out soon, so I have somewhere to stay for the holidays. I don't like living in Ali's flat, his girlfriend hates me._

_I promise to write more soon, once I've been to my classes. Stay strong, and remember that I love you. You're innocent to me._

_Love,_

_Lucy._

Folding the parchment and sliding it into an envelope, she tucked in inside her copy of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration _and decided she'd make the trip to the Owlery tomorrow morning before anyone was awake.

Lucy Ra then blew out the candle beside her and fell into an equally tranquil sleep.


	6. Chapter 5

Thank you all for your interest. I will update soon.

Disclaimer: My sister got me a Ravenclaw scarf for my birthday (which is also Christmas day), so I do own that, but unfortunately I do not own nor make an profit out of Harry Potter.

Chapter Five: Professor Aleitheas Killory

Conyeri was woken much earlier than she considered acceptable by their dorm door clunking shut. It was just getting light outside, and she peeked out the window to see the giant squid doing the backstroke across the Black Lake. Figuring that is was best to be up early and prepared on her first day, she stretched and got out of bed, noticing that Lucy's bed was empty and unmade. Maybe she'd gone to the toilet.

Her uniform seemed much less stiff now that she'd worn it for a day, but the shiny leather school shoes were still awfully uncomfortable and she squeaked on the polished stone floors. She noted that her tie and robe trim had turned midnight blue and bronze since she'd gone to sleep, along with her school scarf. The grandfather clock by the door read six-thirty, far too early for breakfast, so she took her _Standard Book of Spells, Grade One _down to the common room and sat in a squashy chair by the fire, perusing some of the early pages. As seven approached, a couple of older students joined her, one of whom was Luke, and a pretty girl he introduced as his girlfriend, Ally. He chatted about Hogwarts, about the school year, the classes, and how excited he was at being able to enter the Duelling competition.

"Isn't dueling hard?" She asked, and a couple of the older boys grinned.

"Not when you're a Ravenclaw." A burly fifth-year named Boris chuckled, whipping out his wand. "We have the advantage that we can be cunning without being called cheaters like the Slytherins, fair without being meek like Hufflepuffs, and bold without taking stupid risks like Gryffindors. We get it all."

His mate high-fived him and Luke smiled, keeping an eye on their antics. He was a sixth-year prefect and hoped to become head boy next year, so he took his position seriously and didn't want his house to lose any points for silly behaviour. He turned to Conyeri, who was considering this information in her head. He liked her- she was childish, yes, like many first-years, but she was chatty and enthusiastic, with a large amount of curiosity perfect for a Ravenclaw.

Conyeri scratched her head as she tried to read her father's scrawly handwriting in the margins of her book. "Can you read this?"

Luke took the book. It was open to Chapter Four, on the simple spell _Reparo_, but he realized she was interested in the notes in the margins. He read them and laughed. "It says: Note to self, don't try and repair a broken heart with this spell. Causes genital itching and a fondness for boiled cabbage that lasts several weeks."

The crowd burst out laughing. "Who does this belong to, Conyeri?" Ally asked.

"My dad." She admitted, not wanting to imagine what he must have done. "I have most of his old books."

"He sounds like a wise man." Luke joked, handing the book back. "But repairing an inanimate object is much easier than a living creature. That's not charms, it's healing, and that's the kind of spell they only teach in the seventh year."

Conyeri blushed and nodded. "Is this spell easy?"

"Reasonably." Luke looked around for something and found a ceramic mug, picking it up and breaking it into three pieces by slamming it down on the table. "Now, it helps with these kinds of general spells to add a word to focus the magic- see in your book, it lists some common ones?" Conyeri nodded, and Luke took out his wand; it was slender and polished, a light brown colour. "For example- _Vas Reparo!_"

The pieces of mug came together and sealed, returning it to exactly the way it had been a minute ago. Conyeri smiled. "Can I try?"

"Of course." He pointed his wand. "Just so you know, every spell has an opposite. For _reparo_, it is this- _Reducto!_" The cup smashed again, this time into several smaller fragments. "The movement for _Reparo _is a tap on the object or its fragments, at least until you're more confident and can do without. Have a go."

Conyeri took her new wand out of her pocket and calmed herself, aware that there were older boys and girls around her, watching. She gripped it tightly and touched the tip to the largest fragment and said quietly, "_Vas Reparo._"

The fragments wobbled and gravitated together, but didn't quite make it. Conyeri frowned and blushed. "Try and think of what a complete cup looks like in your head; that will help." Ally said encouragingly.

Conyeri took a breath and imagined a mug in her head, then tapped it again and said the spell. She could feel the resistance of gravity against her spell, and, concentrating harder, she felt the spell working and the fragments fitting together. The cup quivered a bit, then slowly came together and the cracks sealed themselves. A chip off the rim was missing, but otherwise, it was complete.

"Well done!" Luke congratulated her. "You'll have no problem with that in the future."

Ally smiled and patted her on the back as a big group of older girls came down into the common room, leaving Luke with a quick kiss to talk to them. Luke himself grinned. "I can't award points, only take them away, but if I could you'd get some."

"Points?"

"House points. You get them for good deeds, lose them for trouble-making." He grinned. "I hope that you and that Ra girl cancel each other out, else we'll never win. Those damned Hufflepuffs may not make a load, but they don't lose any either. Gryffindors are likely to be awarded tonnes but also get them taken away for being silly. Slytherins…" Luke looked pensive for a moment. "They haven't won anything except the Quidditch cup since the early seventies, so we're safe there."

He saw Jonmarc emerge from his dorm, his dark, curly hair sticking out and his eyes bleary. One of the many ornate clocks around the room read ten past seven, so most people were getting out of bed and getting ready for the school day. Most students liked to go straight from breakfast to lessons rather than make the trek up to the Ravenclaw Tower, with the aid of a _Dentursus _charm that cleaned one's teeth as they went, or kept a toothbrush in their robes for use in the bathrooms on the way to lessons. However, first-years knew not of such charms and weren't at all prepared for the day ahead- likely they wouldn't know where any of the bathrooms were anyway.

"Jonmarc!" Luke shouted across the hubbub of chatting students. The French boy came over and greeted them with a big yawn. "Good morning, sleepy-head."

"I'm 'ungry." He said without ceremony, plonking himself down on Ally's vacated chair and nursing his stomach. "I ope that eet is not all Briteesh food ere."

"I'm sure you could go to the kitchens and ask the house-elves to make something up special for you at mealtimes." Luke said, spotting his friends. "Look, I'm going to see my mates, but you guys should follow someone who knows where they're going to breakfast, okay?"

"Thank you." Conyeri said to him as he got up, and he returned a smile.

"No problem. I'm a prefect, so you're welcome to come and talk to me whenever you want about whatever." He excused himself and went to meet his mates. Conyeri and Jonmarc talked a bit about what classes they'd get and what problem he had with British food, until she said something rude about frog's legs and he huffed off for a bit but returned when he realized that he had no idea where he was going. Conny tagged behind the black-haired girl from last night down to breakfast, still at loss as to where on earth she was. To make matters worse, the girl and her friends took a shortcut through a dragon tapestry that wouldn't let you through until you'd tickled it under the chin, and Conny spent a good ten minutes trying to figure this out. By that time, she'd lost her guide and was wandering around hoping a stroke of luck would take her to breakfast.

She was just passing a suit of armour when it chuckled and stuck its leg out, tripping her over, when a tiny man noticed and pointed his wand at her.

"_Spongify!_ He squeaked, and Conny found herself falling not on the hard stone floor but a strange, invisible cushion that broke her descent. A second spell hit the suit of armour that'd tripped her and paralysed it. The little man toddled over and sighed. "I told Albus it was a bad idea to put those there… Oh, my dear, are you okay?"

Conyeri pulled herself up and dusted off her robes, glaring at the suit of armour before looking at the little man. He had neatly- styled brown hair and a pair of small glasses, but what really struck her was how short he was. She, herself only about five foot tall, was taller than him by far, yet on him the lack of height looked relatively normal. He smiled at her and then saw her tie. "A Ravenclaw! My, I am terribly sorry. I am Professor Flitwick, your Head of House. I was going to introduce myself last night, but the bœuf en gelée didn't agree with me."

He held out a hand and she shook it tentatively. "I'm Conny, sir. Conny DeHayersae."

His smile grew broad. "Ah, yes. I remember your father- he came when I was in my seventh year here. Quite a scamp, he was." Flitwick chuckled at the memory. "You're on the seventh floor, my dear, by which I would assume that you are lost?"

Her face burned. "Yes, sir. I was following some older girls, but they took a shortcut and…"

"Nothing to worry about!" He patted her arm. "I shall show you to breakfast- why, I was just going there myself!"

So Conyeri followed Professor Flitwick down through the school. They talked amiably about charms, and the school, and Conyeri's life so far. Flitwick knew nearly all of the school's passageways and secret shortcuts, having been a teacher here for several years, but only two years ago appointed Head of Ravenclaw. She liked him a lot, though sometimes when he got excited or animated about a particular topic his voice became high and squeaky and hard to understand. By the time they arrived at the entrance hall, her head was swimming with passwords and useful spells. He bade goodbye to her and joined his colleagues on the teacher's table, while Conyeri sat with her fellow Ravenclaws, which included Lucy but not Jonmarc, who was, she thought guiltily, probably still lost.

"Heya." Lucy said as she sat down. Conyeri noticed that she was wearing her scarf despite the weather not being cold yet.

"How come you weren't in your bed this morning?" Conny asked as she poured milk over her cornflakes, secretly eyeing a platter of steaming scrambled eggs that had just appeared. Lucy, with a mouthful of bacon sandwich, mumbled something but didn't really answer the question until she'd finished.

"Just wanted to look around, make sure I didn't get too lost."

"I was horribly lost on the way here." Conny complained. "I managed to get through this passageway with a dragon tapestry guarding it- and then a ended up on the seventh floor. A suit of armour tripped me up, but Professor Flitwick helped me here. He's our head of house- and really nice."

"Cool." Lucy sipped at her chocolate milk. "Oh- is he that one?"

She pointed to the little man, and Conny nodded. She saw that he was conjuring tiny tubes out of thin air that whizzed towards the table and dropped in front of the students. Lucy managed to catch hers, but Conyeri's fell into her bowl and she quickly fished it out. It was a cardboard tube painted blue, with a white wax seal around the middle, pressed into the shape of a face. As she looked at it, the face came to life and blinked a couple of times, looking at her, before speaking.

"I am lighter than a feather, but no man can hold me for long. What am I?"

Conny scowled at the face, realizing that it was another riddle. Beside her, Lucy decided against bothering with the question and took her knife, thinking to just break the seal. The moment the utensil touched the face, she flew backwards off the bench onto her back, her face covered in obscene writing. A fifth-year who knew better laughed and helped her charm the words off, but Lucy remained mortified for the whole meal, in the end answering her riddle only to have the wax face stick its tongue out at her before the tube opened, revealing a curled-up piece of parchment. "It's our timetable." She said.

"Reckon yours will be the same as mine?"

"Probably, but I wouldn't risk it. What was your riddle?"

She told Lucy and they puzzled it over for a minute. "Is it… love?"

"What a cynic." Somebody listening said, but Lucy's scowl was enough to shut them up.

"No… what can't you hold for long?"

"Water?"

"That's not lighter than a feather, though."

Breakfast was ending by the time Conny finally figured it out. "It's your breath! You can't hold your breath for long, even though it's lighter than a feather!"

The bored wax man rolled his eyes and muttered "Took you long enough!" before her tube cracked open.

_DeHayersae, Conyeri, Ravenclaw, Timetable for 1982-3 _it read at the top. Her weekly timetable was printed, along with several locations and miniature maps. It was Thursday, so that meant she had double Herbology with Slytherin first, then History of Magic. After lunch, she had the dreaded Arithmancy, then Charms to finish. It seemed like a lot to do in a day- Conyeri had mostly spent her childhood being taught magic by her father and things like English and mathematics by her mother. The closest she'd come to Potions was accidentally adding powdered venomous tentacula leaf instead of sugar to her cocoa: not a good idea. The result had been a dangerous brew that tasted great but gave you the strangest urge to bite people.

"So we do have the same schedule." Lucy noted. "Look at that- Astronomy on a Sunday and Monday night!"

Conny groaned. She already hated Astronomy, and to have to do it on a Sunday sucked. That said, they did get first period Monday and Tuesday off to lie in, making up for the lost sleep the night before. "I'm pretending to be ill every lesson. No way am I doing that boring star-watching."

"Don't knock it 'till you've tried it." Lucy said sagely, wiping her hands on Corfax's robes as he passed. "Right, we've only got ten minutes. I say we ask an older student to summon our books down here and we can be early."

"I'll ask Luke." Conny said. She looked along the table and found him, so she got up and went over. "Could I ask a favour?"

"Of course." He said.

"Me and Lucy are going to be late to first lesson if we go up and get our books, since it took ages to open our schedules… could you summon our Herbology books here?"

"No problem." He was silent for a second before flicking his wand with a quiet "_Accio libri!_"

Conyeri looked around for them. "They're on the way." Luke promised.

"Thank you." She said to him, and went back to sit with Lucy. A minute later, their books and assorted paraphernalia came zooming through the doors to meet them. A couple of people looked around, wondering if they were late owls (who generally came nearer the beginning of the breakfast period), and then lost interest as they landed neatly in front of the two first years. Luke gave them a thumbs-up and Conyeri smiled back at him.

They hurried from the hall after that, and after asking several people for directions, found their way down to the greenhouses outside the school. Lucy was nearly eaten by a large, prickly plant that rose up from its hiding place as they were ushered into the warmth of the greenhouses, but the portly Herbology teacher, a middle-aged woman with rosy cheeks and soil-covered robes called Professor Sprout whacked it over the head with a hoe before it could do any real damage. She led them in, and within a few minutes the rest of the class had assembled. There was a little jostling between the Slytherins and Ravenclaws, but they didn't have any of the enmity that the Gryffindors had with their classmates. They were soon intermingling, and Sprout, noticing the generally friendly atmosphere, paired them off, one Ravenclaw and one Slytherin.

"Now, I want you to put on your gloves and re-pot the pansies in front of you. Obviously, pansies have very few magical uses, but I want you all to be used to repotting and taking care of safe plants before we move onto anything tricky."

Conyeri was paired with Clarissa Mothley, the girl who's brother Derek had been sorted into Ravenclaw but she into Slytherin. Up close, Conyeri saw that she was slender, with golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes, though for some reason her beauty seemed distant. She didn't speak much, only got on with the task, but she was willing to say simple things like "Pass the pot." And "Be careful."

Derek, her brother, walked past at some point and they shared a strange look. Conyeri couldn't quite place it, and was perturbed the rest of the lesson. She'd done muggle gardening with her mum back home, so this was nothing new. Clarissa was willing to let her do the lion's share of the work. Conyeri couldn't help compare her to Jonmarc, and wondered if there was a fluffy, childish side to the surly girl. She didn't think so.

"Class, finish pruning and return your equipment to the shelves!" Sprout trilled, striding around inspecting their work. "Oh my dear, Mr. Lockhart- you appear to have killed your pansies."

The thickly set boy scowled and blamed it on his partner, a lanky Slytherin boy who looked surprised at the accusation, but by the time he was going to defend himself, Sprout had moved on. She was very picky, Conny noticed, about the tidiness of the soil and she quickly tidied hers up a bit before the teacher rounded on the pair of them. "Ah, Miss Mothley, Miss DeHayersae- well done! Class, this is the standard you should be aspiring to." Conyeri burned, but Clarissa remained nonchalant. "Excellent, indeed… Oh, Mr. Cast, what on earth are you doing with those pruners…"

Sprout hurried off to stop a Slytherin cutting himself to pieces with a large garden instrument, and Conyeri decided to try and make conversation. "So, are you enjoying it here?"

Clarissa turned to her with her eyebrows raised, as though shocked that Conyeri should speak to her. Her lips pursed and, despite the Ravenclaw's misgiving, she gave an answer. "It is… nice, but the Slytherin dormitories are cold."

"I would imagine, them being in the dungeons and all." Conyeri reasoned. "How come you and your brother are in different houses?"

"We are different people." She answered simply, sweeping some loose soil off her robes. She saw that Conyeri was looking for a more expansive answer. "Derek has never believed that any means to an end is appropriate."

"You speak like my parents." She decided, and Clarissa smiled slightly, the ghost of a grin leaving her lips a second later. "Though that's cool, it makes you sound really grown-up and smart."

"It is the norm in my family." The girl murmured.

They talked little after then, Sprout having decided to trust them enough to let them have a go at pruning the potted flitterbloom plants that were kept as popular pot plants around the school. Its languid tentacles waved lightly, but were quite unfriendly when you approached with a pair of shears, as they soon found out. Luckily they managed to do as instructed. Sprout rounded up the class at the end and set them an essay on proper care of plants.

"What do you have now?"

"Charms, I believe." Clarissa said, checking her schedule. "And yourself?"

"History of Magic." She groaned, remembering being warned by her dad that the class was ridiculously boring. "They're roughly the same direction, and Lucy's found a boyfriend already- want to walk with me?"

"Okay." The quiet Slytherin girl stayed at her side as they walked from the greenhouses to the castle. She seemed hesitant to speak at first, but with enough probing she'd eventually talk. Conyeri learned that her family were very strict pure-blood wizards. Her father worked in the Ministry; her mother, as a Healer in St. Mungo's. Although not supporters of the Dark Lord, they remained ambivalent through the First Wizarding War, not taking either side. "Not all of us are Death Eaters." Clarissa had said when Conyeri had asked why she'd been put in Slytherin. "There is no requirement that Slytherin members must be dark wizards- those of us who master our thirst for power and use our guile wisely grow to become the greatest wizards and witches of our time." Conyeri laughed at the pomp, but Clarissa added: "That was what Professor Killory said to us last night, anyway."

"He's the Head of Slytherin, right?"

"_She _is, yes. Apparently Professor Slughorn retired last year." Clarissa said, "I do not think she will last long, though- she is teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, and one of my prefects said they do not stay longer than a year."

"Why?"

"I am not sure. But my father told me that Professor Snape wanted the job, but was declined, and Dumbledore asked him to be Potions master instead." They reached the first floor, where Classroom 4E- Conyeri's History of Magic room- was situated, and bade goodbye to each other. Conyeri found that she was early and took a seat near the back, anticipating that Professor Binns would be less likely to notice if she fell asleep further away from him. Jonmarc appeared (where had he been all morning?) and sat next to her. Lucy came in chatting with some friends and took a seat nearby, sparing a wink over her shoulder to her two other mates. Once all of them were seated, they waited for about fifteen minutes before anything happened. Their teacher floated lazily through the board halfway through the lesson and yawned before dozing off at his desk for another couple of minutes before waking himself.

"Welcome to History of Magic. The syllabus will begin covering an overview of modern wizarding history, focusing on the four goblin rebellions from the periods 1753 through to the early twentieth century… you should all take notes… the first of these very interesting events happened just after the death of Calem Rilger in 1752, after which the goblins under his wardship had no master and decided to…"

Conyeri zoned out and started passing notes to Jonmarc, who wrote back in elegant handwriting. They played a couple of games of magical hangman where the little man got more and more apprehensive before running off the piece of parchment, onto the desk and running away. Conyeri felt sorry for him, but that only lasted until she saw him hiding in the margin of her Herbology textbook. She wickedly drew a box around him and watched him try to get out before slumping down, defeated. Giggling quietly, she spent the rest of the lesson drawing things for him to play with, this pursuit climaxing in the man flying away on a dragon after rescuing a stick-princess from the tower she'd drawn. A History of Magic lesson well spent, then.

"We'd be better reading zee textbook!" Jonmarc complained as the bell tolled and they left the lesson. Binns didn't seem to notice them leaving and continued his lecture to an empty classroom. Conyeri agreed with him and decided to do just that when she had some free time. "Eet says 'ere zat we ave a lunch break until quarter to one."

"Already?" Conyeri asked, surprised- her morning had flashed by. "But after break we have Arithmancy and Charms."

"Oui."

They were walking down towards the Great Hall when they spotted a gaggle of students by a notice board.

"I'm definitely going for it-"

"Mum says I have an expelliarmus second to none."

"Of course your mum would say that!"

"You've got no chance, Ted-"

A group of boys exchanged fighting banter before signing their names and moving away, letting Conny and Jonmarc get a look. A large piece of parchment was pinned to the board, reading:

_Hogwarts Inter-House Dueling Competition Signup sheet-_

_A great chance to practice your spells in a competitive environment!_

_Round One will take place on November 1st after school. All year groups welcome. There will be duel between members of each year group to determine Round Two combatants._

A list of names that had been written followed this. At the bottom, in small font, it said: _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry cannot accept liability for any damage or injury received by students. All duels will be carried out under All-England Ministry Approved rules, but, judging from normal duels, this will do little to help._

She laughed. "Wanna sign up, Jon?"

"Non. We'll be beaten in ze first round- we don't know any useful spells yet."

"C'mon- it'll be a laugh!"

"Non." She pouted and wrote both of their names down anyway. "Conyeri!"

"Whoops!" She grinned, taking his wrist and pulling him away. "Indelible ink- it's not coming off."

He called her something rude in his own language and sulked all the way through lunch, even though the house elves prepared some special dishes for him. Conny started on her Herbology essay while munching through some shepherd's pie, but felt a cold, shivery presence come over her. She looked over her shoulder to see a tall, thin and extremely beautiful woman glide past in black robes. Her hair was the colour of snow, but she looked young enough to be in her thirties. It was flowing freely down her shoulders and out behind her, giving the appearance of some sort of Celtic fairytale queen. She caught the eyes of some other students as well.

"Professor Aleitheas Killory." One of the older boys near her whispered. "Damn, she's so creepy."

"She's gorgeous, though!"

"And Head of Slytherin." Someone else cut in. "She looks like her gaze would kill a man. I reckon she's a basilisk in human guise."

His mate flicked him in the arm. "Did you do Kettleburn's Essay on them?"

"I copied Cathy's." He admitted. "Anyway, she looks deadly. I'd go for Sinistra instead, much less lethal."

They began listing the merits of various female teachers and Conyeri left the conversation, cheeks flaming. He eyes were drawn back to the ethereal woman who had quietly taken a seat beside the new potions master, Professor Snape. She surveyed the hall, her eyes briefly meeting Conny's, and the girl felt another shiver down her spine and tore her gaze away. She was both looking forward to and dreading Defense Against the Dark arts class now; she had it tomorrow second period.

Lucy seemed to be making friends easily enough; she'd picked up several other Ravenclaw students who now followed her and her loud voice around. The Gryffindor girl that had been with them on the boat also stuck to Lucy's side, the two of them going so far as to link arms despite not having met before yesterday, though it was something young girls were wont to do anyway. They sat in a gaggle at the other end of the house table, shrieking and giggling. Conny stared long and hard, feeling like something was out of place. Lucy was… what was the word for it? Distant despite being the centre of attention. What a strange paradox. She glanced over in Conny's direction and caught her looking; raising a dark eyebrow elegantly to inquire as to what it was about her that had warranted the other witch's attention.

Conyeri turned away, but was still curious as to Lucy's background- that insatiable curiosity! It would be the death of her one of these days. She decided to go to the library and check the student roster to find out about Lucy's older brothers. Hogwarts kept an up-to-date record of what alumni were up to, but obviously only Dumbledore and the senior staff had access to it. You could ask to check specific people if you were nice to the librarian, though, since it was in the restricted section.

"I'm going to the library, Jon." She said, finishing her food and wiping her mouth politely as the Bloody Baron drifted past, grumbling under his breath. "You coming?"

"Non." He said curtly and continued to push food around his plate in a surly manner. Well, Conny thought, no skin off my nose. She picked up Corfax along the way, who seemed to hover around her in a creepy way, and the two of them walked together to the library. She learned a bit more about the podgy muggleborn- he was from the countryside, his dad worked repossessing houses and his mum was a wealthy widow who had remarried him. He was surprised to have discovered his magic two years ago, when, at a garden party, he'd destroyed the barbecue when his aunt had told him there were no more sausages left. The incident had left the family quite shaken and had necessitated a visit from the Obliviators to sort out all the relations that were present. Corfax's parents had merrily sent him off- he was going to go to a dingy boarding school in the middle of nowhere anyway, and whether it was one in Scotland that taught magic or one in Lancashire that taught next to nothing did not matter to them.

He was out of breath by the time they reached the library's large entrance, his load rasps gaining the negative attention of Madam Pince. Conyeri told him to hush as she approached the vulture-like woman.

"Madam Pince?" She asked nervously.

The librarian scowled and sniffed as though Conyeri was something gone slightly off. "What is it?"

"Could I please see the student roster?"

"Do you have permission?"

"No, but-"

"No permission, no access." Pince said icily, slamming the signing-book she was writing in shut with a curled lip. "Though I can offer you a copy of the rule book to ensure that you will not bother anyone else with your inane queries?"

If her father's words hadn't been echoing in her mind, Conyeri would have spoken back, but she bit her tongue instead. "Very sorry to have bothered you." She excused herself and Corfax, tugging on his robes until they were out of earshot. "Right, who will sign us that permission slip?"

"Maybe Professor Flitwick? He's your head of house, after all."

"No. He'd notice that I was lying. I don't think he'd like me prying into Lucy's private life."

"Why are you, then?"

"Because I want to _know_." She hissed irritably. Conyeri was not used to being in the dark- anything she had wondered, her father had always explained or she had access to the means to find it out herself. It was a disgusting feeling, not knowing everything, and Conny didn't like it. She stormed up to the Common Room to get her afternoon books and looked angrily at anyone who spoke to her. Opening her copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_, she searched the index for a spell that could forge a signature or perhaps let her read the book, but they were all childish charms like _Reparo _or _Incendio_. Frustrated, she slammed the book closed, scaring Rebecca Dannat, who was doing her hair in their shared mirror.

"You don't look too happy." She observed.

"What gave it away?" Conyeri replied, though strictly speaking too young for sarcasm. "I just- urgh, never mind. Are you going to Arithmancy?"

"Not with you." The girl sniffed, frowning at her reflection. "No offense, but you're too grumpy to stand right now."

"Am not!"

The reply was childish, but brought momentary solace. Rebecca raised an eyebrow and left, leaving Conyeri alone. She sighed. This was not how her first day was meant to go. She didn't even know why she cared so much about what Lucy's background was- in fact, she realized, it was more the principal than the specifics that had angered her. She realized, for the first time, that things would be difficult. For someone who had never gone to school before, Hogwarts was quite a jump to make. She disliked not being the biggest, the smartest, or the most important, like she was at home. She supposed, dimly, that as an only child she'd been spoiled rotten.

"Yo." Lucy, the last person she wanted to see, bounced into the dorm, two other girls at her heels. Conyeri recognized them but could not recall their names. "Why so glum, Conny?"

"Nothing." She said, turning away, cheeks red. She hoped Corfax didn't tell, or she'd seem like a weird stalker. "Just, uh, drowsy after History of Magic, still."

"I know, right!" The Egyptian girl laughed, throwing herself onto her bed. "I might just not turn up and see if he notices."

Her followers giggled. Lucy gave them a look that seemed to relegate them back to the status of devotee and they went off to swap their books. "So, how was Rissa?"

"Who?"

"Rissa Mothley, the Slytherin you were with." Lucy's eyebrows waggled. "How did you manage to get her so conversational?"

Conyeri shrugged. "I just talked to her. She's nice enough."

"And rich enough, and well-connected enough. The Mothleys get anything they want- they're one of the oldest, richest families out there. They keep up this whole façade of normality- the parents even work- but they're worth millions of galleons."

Conyeri looked at her suspiciously, seeing the greedy twinkle in Lucy's eyes. She'd have to watch out for that. "How do you know this?"

With a grin, Lucy shook her head. "It's… public knowledge."

"If you hang out with the right public." Conny noted, picking up the inference. "Anything else I should know before I accidentally befriend another multi-millionaire?"

"Of course." Lucy chuckled. "But all will be revealed in time, young one."

"Young! I'm older by four months!" Conny protested, but Lucy stuck her tongue out and hopped to her feet. She gathered her copies of _Maths Can be Magical_ and _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_ and checked her hair in the mirror before beckoning to Conyeri from the door.

"Hurry up, slowpoke."

"Slave-driver." Conyeri grabbed her books and followed, aware that the two girls that had followed Lucy in were looking at her with intense jealously, the kind that morphed into petty dislike in teenage girls. But they were not teenagers yet, and that sort of poisonous attitude had not settled in them. It would all blow over by morning, or so they hoped.


	7. Chapter 6

Thank you for your custom.

Disclaimer: I make no money out of this fanfiction and have no claim to Harry Potter.

Chapter Six: Lucy's Lucky Break

Hallowe'en came towards them like a speeding Hogwarts Express- the first-years were so swamped with work that they hardly perceived the passing of time. McGonagall and Professor Vector were the hardest of the teachers; after only two lessons, the transfiguration teacher expected them to turn a pencil into candle, something that even the study-savvy Ravenclaws had trouble doing. Vector was equally as evil. Arithmancy was taken off the first-year curriculum a few years later for a reason; it was a hellishly tricky subject that required not only an extensive knowledge of magic but also at least an O-Level in Maths, neither of which the eleven-year old wizards and witches who took it possessed.

Charms was a little easier, as both Conyeri and Lucy found they excelled at it. They often stole away to an empty classroom (usually the History of Magic classroom- that was usually completely devoid of any students, especially when there was a class going on) and practiced dueling, both quite set on participating in the dueling challenge coming the day after Hallowe'en. After mastering the popular jellylegs jinx, expelliarmus (which was much more difficult than it looked), they tried an interesting hex that spawned caterpillars randomly in your enemy's clothes. The first time this had been used, Lucy had cast it unexpectedly after ducking Conyeri's pepper-nose charm and caused an embarrassing visit to the hospital wing. It was difficult to explain why a first-year had a couple of caterpillars in odd places. Conny didn't think Madam Pomfrey would ever look at her the same way again.

Potions was dire- Professor Snape sped through all his lectures and expected them to take perfect notes. He never washed and, although quite young-looking, was about as far from attractive as it was possible to be. A week before Hallowe'en, he'd put his hand on Jonmarc's shoulder, and the French boy was still washing his jumper to get the grease-stain out. And, if you'd believe it, he'd made them brew a pint of the Elixir of Immeasurability. By their fourth double lesson, which they took with the Hufflepuffs, they'd collectively learned just about nothing. Well, Corfax had learned that adding turmeric to a Rapid-Growth potion was not a good idea, since it actually created the much more dangerous Nasogrosse potion. Gas from this nasty brew had escaped through the vents in the dungeon and taken a group of third-years in Transfiguration by surprise, causing their noses to swell to unmanageable proportions. Professor McGonagall had not been pleased, but Snape had just shrugged her off and taken twenty points from Hufflepuff to keep her quiet. He didn't seem to care if anyone liked him or not.

The day of Hallowe'en saw the first-year charms class employed by Flitwick to practice the _Wingardium Leviosa _charms they had been learning decorating the great hall. The Ravenclaws happily set to work levitating decorations around- although some of the pumpkins were so large that they took several students concentrating at once to lift- and one ended up being dropped on Conny's foot anyway- but it did help their proficiency with the spell a great deal. The Great Hall looked resplendent in its finery- they hadn't seen it looking like this since the start of term banquet.

Charms was the last lesson of the day, and Flitwick gave them all a cauldron cake each as thanks for helping him, so they were in a merry mood as they returned to the Ravenclaw Tower. Conyeri pawned her cake off to a passing Corfax for a copy of the Daily Prophet (since she didn't have an owl, she didn't receive it regularly) and read out the stories in funny voices as they got ready for the feast.

"Pass me that hairband?" Lucy asked from her position of dominance over the mirror, where she was preening herself. One of the other girls they shared with- Conny knew their names now, but for some reason couldn't use them when they were attending to Lucy like slaves- obliged and passed it to her. "Thanks." She smiled coyly. It worried Conny that, at eleven, Lucy already knew how to get people to do exactly what she wanted.

She looked back down at the Prophet, concentrating on completing the cryptic crossword. It was hard; perhaps she'd ask Jonmarc later on. They enjoyed trying to figure out the answers together. She sighed and set the paper down, deciding to shower before the feast. The girls' showers were nicer than the boys', according to Jonmarc's description of algae and freezing water. She took her towel and shampoo (Follicious' 2 in 1 Wizarding Shampoo and Conditioner- putting the shine back into your spellwork since 1544!) and padded over to the luxurious showers, deciding, since she had time on her hands, to take a bath. She locked the door of the large bath cubicle and ran the taps, adding some lavender to make it smell nice. As she soaked, she fell into a light slumber and started snoring loudly. A dream began to unfurl in her mind.

She was looking out onto a remote, rocky landscape. The sky was too dark to be day, but the sun had cast the hills in a dying red light, allowing the silhouette of a cloaked figure to be seen on the crest of a hill, robes floating around lazily in the wind. Another figure joined it, and another, until there were six people on the hill. They looked around furtively before the first one drew their wand- his wand, asit transpired, since in turning around to address the others, his hood was blown down, revealing a handsome face and high cheekbones. Long, dark hair flew freely behind him. He pointed his wand at one of his companions, who stepped back with their hands in front of them defensively.

With a silver flash, another joined their group to stand in front of the handsome man, between him and the one he was pointing to. They shook hands and laughed for a minute, and then, with a spine-chilling pain in Conny' stomach, they all turned to look at her at once.

Seven sets of dark, dark eyes narrowed at once. She felt her breath catch in her throat.

-o-

"Where on earth is Conny?" Lucy asked off-handedly. She, Rebecca, Anna and Polly were waiting in the Common Room with Jonmarc, Gilderoy and a couple of other Ravenclaw boys. She checked a clock and saw that if they didn't leave soon, they'd be late for the feast. "Has anyone seen her?"

They shook their heads. A few minutes of awkward waiting later, Rebecca suddenly remembered something. "She had her towel with her when she left the room. Maybe she went to shower."

"Half an hour ago?" Anna asked sckeptically. "She probably left already, and we're waiting for nothing, Luce."

"No, she'd definitely go with me." Lucy dismissed her protests. "Tell you what, you guys go ahead, I'm going to look for her."

They didn't look happy about it, but Lucy always got what she wanted, so they reluctantly left down to the feast. Lucy went in search of Conyeri at the Ravenclaw Commons, but nobody was there. She found Luke and Ally and asked if they'd seen her. Another negative. Ally offered to come with her and search the dorms, but she politely declined, not wanting to keep her from the revelry. By the look of the couple, the sixth formers had had a fair bit to drink already and were planning to make a bit of a night out of Hallowe'en.

She went up to search the showers, but they were silent. One of the bath cubicles was locked. "Conny?" She yelled, but nobody answered. It would be rude to barge in on someone in the bath, but since everyone else had already gone to the Great Hall, Lucy figured that Conny must be in here, though she didn't know why. Pointing her wand at the lock, she whispered, "_Alohomora!_", and it opened with a creak.

"Conny!" She gasped, seeing her friend under the water in the bath, having drowned. She ran towards her and hefted her out of the bath by the armpits, sending her sprawling onto the floor. If it had been any other first-year, Conny would be dead as Dickens' doornail, but Lucy, who was in possession of four older brothers and lived in a part of London where survival was paramount, knew what to do in these situations. She checked Conyeri's pulse- a weak flutter that petered out even as she checked. She remembered that if someone drowned, oxygen wasn't getting into their blood and their body would shut down. Muggles had to try getting blood around the body again, or purging water from the lungs, but wizards had long ago developed a spell to do this. She clenched her wand hard and pushed the tip into Conny's chest, yelling: "_Defaeco!_" as though her life depended on it. Well, Conny's did.

Nothing happened, and Lucy worried that she hadn't done the spell properly, but then Conny's head shot back, and her throat opened, allowing a stream of bath-water to spurt out onto the floor next to her. Her body spasmed violently as her gagging reflex activated, expelling the last dregs out along with a rattling groan. Lucy desperately shook her, wanting her to wake up, but she was unconscious. She checked her airway- yes, there was breathing! Light, erratic breathing, but breathing nevertheless. Despite wanting to congratulate herself on her victory, Lucy picked Conny up under her arms and dragged her from the bathroom, and then remembered that she wasn't wearing any clothes. Embarrassed, she found a pair of knickers and a loose t-shirt that someone obviously a lot taller that Conyeri had left hanging up and labouriously dressed her. The clothes got wet anyway, but at least it protected the girl's modesty.

Lucy managed to get her into the Common Room with much effort. She was at loss as to what to do. Conyeri needed to see a healer, and there was the question as to why she had drowned in the first place, too.

The portrait of Helena Ravenclaw gasped. "My dear, whatever's wrong!"

"She drowned in the bath." Lucy panted. "I really need help, but everyone's at the feast!"

Helena frowned and then disappeared from her portrait for a moment. She returned with a fat witch in red robes. "Can you inform someone?"

"I will spread the word around." The witch said, her eyes wide. "I'm sure somebody can be roused."

It became a big old fuss- though the two girls didn't know it at the time, half the portraits in the entire castle (which is to say a lot) were employed for the next five minutes in causing as a big a ruckus as possible to attract attention. Conyeri was still not awake by the time a teary and hurried-looking Professor Flitwick appeared from the entrance, with several other teachers and prefects behind him. "Merlin!" He squeaked, running over. "Is she all right?"

"She's breathing, but I'm not sure of anything else." Lucy said nervously, biting her lip, trying to wipe tears from her own eyes.

"You must tell me what happened on the way to the Hospital Wing." He ushered her out. Someone had conjured a stretcher that Conyeri had been loaded onto and cast a locomotor charm on it, so it floated in front of them as they rushed downstairs.

Lucy explained what had gone on, with Flitwick looking more and more worried. "You don't know how long she was under for?"

"No." She shook her head. "Or why. People don't just normally drown in the bath."

"True." Flitwick huffed and puffed as he tried to keep pace. "Well, thank Merlin you were there, else I wouldn't want to think what would have happened."

Lucy gulped and stifled another set of sobs. It had all been very scary. She was shaking. Where had her streetwise bluster gone now? Khai would have been disappointed. Then again, Khai was a hard brother to please. Lucy grimaced and shook thoughts of her family out of her head, replacing them with concern for her friend.

"Will she be all right, Professor?" she asked.

"I suspect so. Hopefully she was not under too long, else her brain may be damaged, but if all goes well, she should recover fine." Flitwick explained, and then, lowering his voice, said to her: "And I should very well give you forty points to Ravenclaw, for an outstanding act of bravery, and quick-thinking that saved your friend's life."

Lucy beamed at him as the little man winked. It just happened that they reached the first floor then, and their group invaded the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey had a bed and several nasty-looking potions prepared.

She huffed and fussed, sending everyone except Flitwick and Lucy out, drawing the curtains around the bed and muttering about safety.

After a check-up, Madam Pomfrey pronounced that Conyeri would be all right, but would need a night of sleep and a draught of Oxylixer, a clear, slightly red potion that returned lost oxygen to the blood. She allowed Lucy to stay and pour drops of the potion down Conny's throat, out of worry that a large mouthful would set her choking again. "Honestly, what were they thinking, going off to the feast without her…?" Pomfrey tutted before leaving them alone. The feast was still going on, and they could faintly hear the revelry downstairs. About an hour later, a pair of very drunk sixth formers were given beds, the number increasing as the night progressed. They were rowdy and sick, and it didn't take Madam Pomfrey very long to storm in angrily and cast a silencing charm on them.

Sometime after midnight, Lucy fell asleep beside her friend's bed.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: The Wanderer

They didn't wake until midday on November 1st. Abruptly roused from sleep, Lucy shot up and hit her head painfully on a metal bar that was keeping the curtains around Conny's bed up. The cuss that followed this was enough to startle the other sleeping Ravenclaw into wakingness. She rasped and blinked several times, wondering where on earth she was. What was going on? What day was it? She frowned and shut her eyes again. She remembered… what? Oh! The feast! She was going to be late for the feast…?

Lucy swore quite colourfully next to her, and then another memory returned. She'd gone to take a bath. Wait, did that mean that Lucy was in the bath with her? That was weird. No, she vaguely decided, she was in a fluffy bed, somewhere that smelled of disinfectant. Ah, a brief flash of caterpillars crossed her mind- ah- the Hospital Wing it was, then.

"Conny?" Lucy asked from beside her, taking her hand. "Hello?"

"Uhhnn…?" She groaned, returning to full consciousness. "Uh, what?"

Lucy shrieked and gave her a big hug. "Oh! I was so worried about you! When I found you, you were almost dead!"

"Dead?" She asked, bewildered.

"You nearly drowned! Oh, I don't want to think what would have happened!"

"Oh." Conny shook her head, biting her lip. She remembered her dream, and the choking feeling she'd experienced at the end of it- that must have been drowning. "Did I- did you… what happened?"

"I just found you in the bathroom, under the water…" They paused as a boy was wheeled in, mushrooms sprouting all over his body. "Ouch, a Funglorious Charm… Sorry, distracted. Um, I pulled you out of the water, and I did a Purging Spell, and you coughed up enough water to fill the lake."

Conyeri's eyes were wide. "You… saved me?"

"I…suppose." Lucy said gingerly, her cheeks slightly flushed. "But, you know, it wasn't really…"

She was cut off by Conny launching herself into another big hug and a squeal. The angle was odd, but the intention was nice, and Lucy allowed her shoulder to be nearly pulled out of its socket.

Madam Pomfrey, somehow sensing that they were awake, bustled over carrying a strange little machine. She waved her wand at Conny, and a small green ball of light floated from her chest into the device. It rattled and, oddly, grumbled a bit before spitting a slightly singed piece of parchment out at the nurse. "Everything looks relatively normal, my dear. You're welcome to leave when you feel up to it."

With that out of the way, Conny changed into a set of school clothes that had been neatly folded at the end of her bed and made herself presentable. She felt slightly nervous and shaken from her experience, but did not allow herself to dwell on it. She was alive now, and whatever had happened- not that she understood how she'd ended up under the water, or why on earth she was having bad dreams- she would continue. It took more than a near-death experience to faze her. Madam Pomfrey made her promise to eat a good lunch on the way out, so they went straight to the Great Hall. Jonmarc and the others were pleased to see her, offering hugs and, from Corfax, who went very pink, a box of fudge and a get well soon card. Not wanting to leave the Hufflepuff boy out, she gave him a hug, too, though it was difficult getting her arms around his girth.

Luke, who was ridden with guilt at being too drunk to help, carried her books to Transfiguration for her, and promised (somewhat naively) to help he with her Arithmancy homework for the rest of the year. Even McGonagall, who was nothing if not strict, gave her ten points just for remembering Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, and only set them a foot long essay to do on the five principal exceptions to this law. Wizarding physics was dull; Lucy was itching to learn how to jinx people into tomorrow.

After double Transfiguration, they had the more practical and enjoyable double Charms. Flitwick was even better, being Head of Ravenclaw, and in his relief that Conny was better, taught them the Tickling Charm, _Rictumsempra_, in preparation for the Dueling Competition. By the time they left, albeit with a set of questions to do for prep, their sides ached but they felt immensely satisfied.

"Did you see my jinx? It hit that bugger Crymge right where it hurts-"

"A low blow." The welsh boy snarled, visibly walking slightly funny due to Lucy having hexed him while he wasn't looking. Ralphus Crymge was a handsome boy, with long, black hair that he tucked behind his ears and a pronounced nose. He was an obvious leader, much like Lucy, and because of that, they clashed. He was followed everywhere by Rissa's brother, Derek Mothley, who had taken on a sort of doleful look since arriving, and had none of his sister's poise. Conny privately thought Ralphus was a prat, but wouldn't chance to say it to his face- in fact, she wouldn't chance saying anything to him unless Lucy and Jonmarc were around, because most of the Ravenclaw boys were under his command. Apart from Derek, there was the weak-chinned but bulky Gil Lockhart, a quiet black boy named Feol, and Lawrence Staniss, who always looked curiously damp. In fact, Conyeri hated to think what danger Jonmarc was in, living as he did in the first-year boys' dorms with that lot. He was the only boy not to swear his allegiance to Ralphus' little gang, and with good reason; they could only be trouble.

Lucy smirked at him. "You snooze, you lose, Sheepie."

"Don't call me that, criminal scum!" He spat. "Looking forward to joining your filthy brothers? Petty criminal suits you."

"Better a petty criminal than a _massive_ arsehole." She replied glibly. "Now, some of us have a dueling championship to prepare for."

He snorted, and his mates laughed. "Didn't you hear? Dark magic is banned, so all of your brothers' dirty tricks are useless."

"I don't need dark magic to beat a weed like you." She said, and immediately lashed out, her fist connecting squarely with his face, sending him flying into his cronies. Incensed, he stumbled up, and like any pure-blood wizard child, reached straight for his wand, shouting, "_Tremulus!_" at the top of his voice.

A bolt of pink slight shot from his wand straight at Lucy, but, as it was about to hit her square in the chest, a shimmering blue shield materialized in front of her. With a squeak of indignation, Professor Flitwick lowered his wand and walked up to them, his hair standing on end.

"What on earth do you think you're doing, Mr. Crymge? The dueling starts later!"

"I know, sir, but-"

"Not buts! Magic in the corridors is banned, and you all know this. Ten points from Ravenclaw!"

"But it's your own House!" Gil protested.

"That may be, however you are clearly breaking school rules, and I would be partisan if I didn't chastise you for it." Flitwick huffed. "If I see your wand out at Miss Ra again outside of teacher supervision, Mr. Crymge, you won't be participating in the dueling at all!"

Ralphus mumbled something, but Flitwick was already gone, only the swish of the tapestry of Jakob the Believer to tell them where he'd been. The Welsh boy growled and gave Lucy a purely malicious glare before striding off, accompanied by his cronies. Lucy burst out into laughter as soon as they'd left, even more violently than when Conny had hit her with a masterful tickling charm.

"Did you see his face?" She wheezed, leaning on a suit of armour for support. "Oh, Merlin, that was priceless! Obviously, not too keen that Flitwick took points off us, but to see that clod taken down a peg I'd give all the points in Hogwarts."

"Do you not like him?" Conny asked.

"We have… families at odds." Lucy said. "His parents are both Department of Magical Law Enforcement goons- they've arrested by brothers more times than I can count on my hands."

"Ah." Conny absorbed this information. Lucy's family certainly didn't seem on the right side of the road, pardon the muggle analogy. "Well, we'll try avoiding him, then."

"Are you joking? Avoid him? I'm going to hex his arse all the way to the Quidditch pitch tonight!" She brandished her wand at Jakob the Believer, who said, very sternly, that she was a charlatan borne towards hell. "Ah, shut up, old man, or I'll use _diffindo_."

The tapestry-dwelling Jakob seemed to be afraid of that and huffed before turning away from them. Lucy pulled Conny along with her as they hurried towards Ravenclaw Tower to freshen up and cram before their first dueling session. Lucy, who often spent a great deal of time preening, took her place at the front of the queue for the mirror, and Conny decided it wasn't worth it if she was just going to end up with snails for ears soon anyway. She had a quick wash (in the basin. She didn't think she'd face the bath again for a while) and went to the Common Room to meet Jonmarc.

Since finding out that many more people than he'd thought spoke his language, and none of them made fun of him for his accent, Jonmarc had become much more sociable. Mostly with girls and older boys, though; Ralphus and the other first-years hated him for whatever reason. Apart from Conny and Lucy, he could be seen hanging out with Mark Aritt from Gryffindor and his friends; they got along well. When nobody was watching, Gil Lockhart would spend time with him, but couldn't be relied upon. But he still gave off an aura of loneliness, of not quite fitting in, so a month ago when they'd been asked to choose their language electives, Conny had gone to talk to Professor Flitwick and asked if Jonmarc could teach her French instead of the upperclassman who's job it would usually be. He'd said that was fine, as long as it didn't take their minds away from their normal schedules and that Conny passed the same tests that the others studying the language in her year had to take every term.

So every Monday and Tuesday morning, in the free period they were given because they had Astronomy the night before, Jonmarc and her would sit in a corner of the Ravenclaw Commons, by the triptych of Harvey Ridgebit becoming the first wizard to catch a Peruvian Vipertooth dragon. It had only been a month, but they were making good progress into the present and past tenses, and Jonmarc and Conny were a lot closer for it. Lucy, who spoke Arabic and decent French on top of her normal English, had been exempt from learning a language, but instead was having to teach Arabic to a fourth-year girl named Shiela Barnaby. She said, scathingly, that English people were stupid several times, before being reminded that most of her friends were English.

She saw him relaxing on an armchair, looking, however, slightly pale, with a copy of the_ Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_ on his lap, open to Chapter nine, but he'd been doodling on it instead of reading. Beside him was a piece of crumpled parchment with scratchy writing on it.

"Wassat?" She asked, sidling up to Jonmarc and perching on the edge of his chair. He looked at the note and handed it to her. It was a page of jinxes and hexes written out with some notes about wand movements. "Wow, who gave these to you?"

"A Feeth-year boy- over zere, 'im." He pointed vaguely to a cluster of older boys who were talking excitedly. "Ee said eet would be a big elp."

She chastised him for his accent (he'd asked her to help her improve his English, and she liked telling people off, so it was a win-win situation) and slid down into the chair next to him. It was so big that they had plenty of space. "Ooh, I want to try this one!" She pointed to on of the jinxes. "Okay, Jon, stay still."

He didn't have time to protest before she'd whipped her wand out and shouted "_Algaseata!_" pointing it straight at him. With a squelching sound and a burst of sea-green light, Jonmarc jumped off the chair, clutching at himself and making a gurgling sound. His whole body was now covered in a slimy layer of seaweed, great clumps of it sticking to him, over his face and ears and all. Conny went bright red, realizing what she'd done. Around the Common room, a couple of people laughed, and the fifth-year boy who'd given him the spells lazily pointed his wand at the struggling boy and said "_Siccus!_" With a fizzing yellow mist, all the seaweed was gone, leaving Jonmarc dry, but slightly salty. He got to his feet and swore loudly at her for several minutes in his mothertongue as he stormed round the Common Room glaring at everybody.

"Jon, I was just joking, I'm sorry!"

"I didn't even want to be in zees stupid competition anyway!" He yelled. "It was you who put my name forward in ze first place!"

"Whoah, Jon…" Conny took him by the shoulders to steady him. "Jon, what's wrong?"

His eyes were watery, though it may just have been the salt. He bit his lip, his dark eyes looking around furtively. "I…" He coughed loudly and looked over his shoulder. "I can't do eet."

Conny frowned. "What do you mean?"

He paused. "I'm… scared. Of being 'exed."

"Oh." She said, eyebrows rising. "So it wasn't a good thing of me to do to just hex you then?"

"Non." Jonmarc said.

"Well… I'm sorry, then." She apologized. Jonmarc said it was okay, but that he really didn't want to duel tonight. "Don't worry. I'll see who you're up against, and I'm sure Lucy has a billion ways to jinx them out of action."

"What a surprise, Frenchie is a coward. Couldn't have seen that coming." Ralphus had appeared down from his dorms, showered and clean, his hair slicked back into a short braid, making him looking like the wannabe son of an olden-days navy captain or something. He had his best robes on, and his wand on prominent display.

"Shut up, Ralphus." Conny said hotly. "Let's just see who's the coward tonight, hmm?"

"No need." He said. "Froggie will surrender anyway!"

His friends laughed riotously. Conny raised her wand to point at him. "I swear to god I will make Lucy's punches look like pokes."

"I'm trembling." He joked. "Without Lucy here, you're just a little girl, Conyeri."

"_Algaseata!_"

"_Tremulus!_"

They cast almost in unison, Conny using the spell she'd tried on Jonmarc earlier, Ralphus using his trademark Trembling Jinx. The bolts of light hit each other mid-way, as both Ravenclaws had good aim. They bounced off each other with a cloud of purple smoke. Conyeri and Jonmarc had the sense to duck as the Seaweed Hex whizzed their way, hitting Basil Fronsac's portrait (Lucky he wasn't in it right now), but although Ralphus dodged his own retuning jinx, his mates were not so sharp. Derek was hit in the face by the Trembling Jinx, sending him into wild contortions, falling over onto the floor and madly twitching.

"_Hurtyn ast_!" Ralphus yelled in welsh, firing a half-hearted curse over his shoulder (the armchair absorbed it with an 'eep!' but then spoke no more). He bent down to check that Derek was okay. Gil, Feol and Lawrence were getting their wands out, and Conny and Jonmarc both took that as a sign to leave. Jonmarc grabbed the piece of paper and his _Standard Book of Spells_ before bolting for the door and almost sliding down the spiral staircase to the Commons. Once they had run halfway through the castle, they stopped for breath by the statue of Gregory the Smarmy.

"I though I was going to die!" Jonmarc panted, clutching his textbook to his chest. "I 'ate living wiz zem."

"I can't imagine how horrible it is." She gave him a hug. "But we've all got to brave, haven't we? It doesn't come naturally to us, like Gryffindors, but I'm sure we'll manage."

"I 'ope so." He muttered, straightening his tie. "We're going to be late if we don't 'urry."

Conny checked the clock and saw that it was nearly time for supper. Dueling was due to start straight afterwards, so she wanted as long as possible to eat and get ready before it started. They hurried downstairs and took their place on the Ravenclaw table, in amongst Lucy, her friends, and several older students including Luke and Ally.

"You guys ready?"

"As we'll ever be." Conny said.

Luke grinned. "I hope we trounce the other houses. There are serious points riding on this thing."

"Do you know if we get paired just with other houses, or might I have the chance to pound the living daylights out of Welshie?" Lucy cracked her knuckles menacingly.

"Hold up there!" Luke chuckled, looking genuinely worried at the fireball of a first-year. "I've no idea. I suggest you keep your spells legal and stay fair."

Ally scowled bitterly, looking over her shoulder at the Slytherin table. "My friend Izzy told me that Professor Killory has been tutoring her house in dueling since the beginning of term."

"Flitwick used to be a dueling champion, though." Luke said through a mouthful of potato. "Then again, he hasn't exactly gone out of his way to help us. And, knowing that crazy woman…" he motioned to where the impossibly graceful Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was talking in low tones to a couple of older students. "Well, if they know even half the stuff she's tried teaching us in class, we're fuc-"

"Language." Ally hit him on the shoulder. "There are first-years present!"

"Eesh, sorry!" He made a pouty face at her and then they got all couple-y, so the younger students phased out of the conversation. Most of them were content to stare hard at Professor Killory.

They hadn't honestly thought, being naïve first-years, that their teachers would be so… odd. The regular ones that had been teaching quite a while, such as Flitwick, McGonagall, and quite possibly Binns, were all right: they had their eccentricities, but then again all wizards and witches did. New arrivals didn't fare so well. Sinistra was constantly flirted with by her students and unsure of how to handle it. Snape, who everyone instantly disliked, was bitched about constantly ('Snape set us this _awful_ essay on the properties of powdered horklump' and 'That greasy git Snape took ten points off Hufflepuff when I sneezed!' to name but a few), and a few brave fifth-years had taken to playing pranks on him.

Killory was a whole other kettle of fish. Their first lesson with her had been Friday before lunch; the eager first-years had lined up outside her classroom, 3C, clutching their copies of _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ to their chests. Minutes passed and they grew quiet. A distant clock chimed the hour, and their teacher still did not arrive. A few students muttered something about leaving and using the time to write their History of Magic essays, but as soon as their words had left their lips, a shadow flickered in the corners of their vision and grew, inexplicably, into Professor Killory, clothed in stunning silver to match her snowy hair, incals of the serpents of Slytherin tooled in marvelous purple and bronze on her robes. She stopped and regarded them coolly before inclining her head, telling them to enter the classroom. Utterly terrified, they did so. To their surprise, since Killory had definitely been behind them, she now stood at the blackboard smiling mutely, one slender hand resting on her wand. They all, amusingly, did a double-take before sitting in their seats. Lucy, Conny and Jonmarc all sat together: each child sat with their cliques. Killory grinned again, and Conny blinked to find herself sitting nearer the front that she was sure she'd originally been, next to Gil Lockhart. She shook her head and frowned like the rest of them.

"The Dark Arts," Killory began in a smooth, creamy, voice from the front, tapping the board with her wand, "Are immensely powerful magics."

Conny blinked again and found her seat changed. This time, she'd definitely felt a small tug in her stomach. She looked around. Most others were just looking at Professor Killory, not really paying attention to where they were. With another tap of her wand on the board, the seats shifted again. She felt quite violently sick and scrambled out of her desk, looking around.

It was only then she saw the spell happen- students swapped with one another across desks. None of them even noticed now. Killory, at the front, raised an eyebrow. "Why are you out of your seat, Miss…?"

"DeHayersae." She answered automatically. "And because my seat keeps moving around, ma'am."

Killory chuckled. "I'm far too young to be called ma'am. Five points from Ravenclaw."

"What!"

"Oh, and ten points _to_ Ravenclaw for being the only one to recognize that this classroom has been cursed." She said offhandedly, flicking her wand. It was as though a gauzy drunkenness lifted, and the students all shook themselves, quite unaware of what had happened. Killory continued in a businesslike fashion.

"You have all just been victims to a highly advanced form of the Confundus Charm, coupled with switching jinxes on your chairs." She strode between them, and Conny fell back into her seat, red in the cheeks. "You are all presumably under the impression that a spell and some wandwork are all it takes to fight Dark Magic. You are wrong. As Miss DeHayersae has clearly proven, it takes intuition. It takes standing out from a crowd. It takes mental strength."

She paused at Ralphus' desk, lips quirked. "Do you consider yourself a good wizard for your age, Mr…?"

"Crymge." He answered. "And yes, I do, Professor."

Lucy muttered something that sounded like 'arrogant little troll' near her. Killory looked absently at Ralphus, her eyes scanning his person.

"So, if I were to, say…" She flicked her wand at Derek Mothley, who shot into the air as though an invisible hand had grabbed him around the neck, "Tell you that this boy will die in two minutes if you do not act, would you be able to prevent this?"

Ralphus, eyes wide, glanced at his choking friend. "I… I think so."

"Then by all means, have a go."

"_Flipendo_!" He yelled at her, wand pointed straight at her face. The weak spell hit her squarely, but she did not move. The Professor did not even blink. "_Flipendo_!" He yelled again, to no greater effect. "_Tremulus! Relashio! Vermillious!_"

He even tried a Bat-Bogey Hex and a Stinging Hex as well, to no avail. Not a single hair on Professor Killory's head was disturbed. "You're… using a shield!"

"I think it is obvious that I am not." She said, and the class murmured agreement. "I am using neither a shield, nor a counter-curse, or anything of the sort. No, little boy, what I am using is something I suspect that most of you possess but few of you use. Wizards today find very little time for it; this is a crying shame, in my opinion. We are too dependant on our magic."

"What is it, Professor?" Ever unable to wait, Lucy's friend Polly spoke up.

"It is something called Diligence." She let Derek down. He crashed on top of his desk, breaking it into splinters, clutching at his neck. "I do apologise. _Reparo_."

She wrote the word on their board in elegant handwriting. "Diligence is something that went out of fashion because only the strongest forms of it were at all useful against You-Know-Who and his followers. I do not expect you to master it, merely to grasp its basic principals. I daresay you will find them more useful than you give them credit for. Now, please copy these notes…"

The whole school was buzzing from the first week onwards. Killory's lessons were hard- Diligence was a very difficult skill to master, and she was teaching it to all her year groups from scratch. It involved, at least at a base level, recognizing a spell that was being cast at you and instead of jumping to a shield or counter-spell, working your way around the magic. They were disappointed that they couldn't just seemingly absorb spells like Killory had done, but Lucy had successfully countered a triple-weakened stunning spell in their sixth lesson.

"It was kind of like… letting it just… I don't know, wash out via my feet or something. I've no idea how I did it."

They were, also, getting the course done. Killory taught them the defensive curses they were expected to know, and then made them counter all of them, first with magic, then with Diligence.

"I looked her up in the library." Corfax said to Conny one evening. "She's a Psychomancer. Apparently they're a dying breed."

"I've never heard of it." She's said, but resolved to somehow find out about their eerie new Professor and Lucy's brothers. "But whatever she is, she set us this monster of an essay…"

Caught out by the clattering of students standing up, Conny shook herself from thoughts of her odd Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and was dismayed to find that several professors were already charming the room into the state it would need to be in for the dueling tournament, and if she didn't move, she was likely to be squashed by the flying tables and benches. She ducked under a whizzing goblet and managed to grab hold of somebody's robes as they became the last to pile into the entrance hall to get away from the danger of being decapitated by a tablecloth or some such thing.

"Gerroff!" The third-year whose robes she had been clinging to swatted at her, and she broke away, not wanting to get into any trouble. Since she was near the door, she had the privilege of watching her teachers argue over how to set up the cavernous hall to fit all of the duelists in. It was decided in the end that there was not enough floor space for everyone, so Professors Dumbledore and Flitwick set to work levitating several dueling stages into the air, along with some paving slabs that knocked together and formed a sort of floor around the airborne arenas. Someone shouted about Health and Safety, so Dumbledore lazily placed a massive cloud-like cushioning charm under these floating stages, and demonstrated its effectiveness by levitating up and jumping onto what appeared to be thin air. He bounced up and landed on one of the platforms neatly.

"Is that sufficient, Minerva?" He asked, bushy white eyebrows raised at his Deputy Headmistress.

"I should think so, Albus." She said, lips pursed. "Though I think it wise that only older students use these… upstairs stages."

"Of course." Dumbledore wiggled his wand with a flourish and great banners appeared at the head of each stage. They had golden numbers emblazoned on them, from One to Seven, the first four years on the bottom, the last three in the air. "Well, I see no reason not to allow our young duelists to enter."

"Albus, are you really sure…" McGonagall lowered her voice and Conny had to strain her ears to hear their conversation.

"Aleitheas assures me that it is essential." Dumbledore smiled.

"And you would trust her counsel?" McGonagall asked.

"Of course." He said. "She is acting in lieu of something far greater than herself."

"And I suppose you shan't tell any of us what that is?" she sniffed, looking disapprovingly over at the Psychomancer.

"Do you not trust my judgment?"

"I trust you implicitly, Albus, you know that. I just do not enjoy being out of the loop."

"None of us do." He gave her a grave look before clearing his throat and speaking to the crowd of students outside. "You may enter!"


	9. Chapter 8

Just realized that I spectacularly cocked up the chapter order. Lots of reposting mania and fiddling to get this back to sanity.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any profit out of writing this fanfiction.

Chapter Eight: The First Round

Conyeri hurried towards The First-Year dueling stage, trying to avoid being crushed by the multitude of students behind her. She found Mark Aritt and the Gryffindors glaring at Rissa Mothley, who was with several Slytherins, but apparently her house was near the back of the crowd trying to get in.

"Hey!" Mark greeted her, grinning ear to ear. "Conny, right? Jonmarc talks a whole lot about you."

"Uh-oh." She joked. "I don't really keep an octopus in my room."

"What?"

"Damn." A handful of sickles passed hands.

"You bet on Jonmarc's stories being true?" She asked.

"Yep." Mark laughed. "Congrats, Bill."

The red-headed Weasley boy grinned, pocketing the money. "Thanks."

"You gonna use it to replace all that Horklump Juice that git Borridge nicked? Snape will kill you if you don't have any again on Friday."

"Ugh, I suppose." Bill grumbled. "I'll have to get one of the seniors to buy some next Hogsmeade Weekend. They sell it at Dogweed and Deathcap, right?"

"I think so."

"Right." Conny was saved from the conversation she knew nothing about by the timely arrival of Lucy and co., the former of which jumped on her back and nearly killed her.

"Ugh!" She groaned. "Get off, you weigh a tonne!"

"Meanie." Lucy returned to standing position, dusting off her robes. "So, we all ready to kick arse?"

"Language, Miss Ra." Flitwick wearily reminded her from where he'd appeared on their stage. "Now, first-years, if you'd gather around me so I can explain how this will work."

He pointed to a large blank tapestry on the wall. As they watched, a list of names spread across it. _Nimmle vs. Martin. Lockhart vs. Mothley, C. Ra vs. Acshtin. DeHayersae vs. Crymge._

Conyeri groaned as her name appeared next to Ralphus'. She was dead; Ralphus had demonstrated just how many jinxes and hexes he knew in their Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons. She looked over at Lucy, who was cracking her knuckles at Feol. _Lucwitt vs. Weasley_ came up, and she saw Jonmarc go pale.

"These are your preliminary matches. You will duel your opponent, no swapping, until according to the rules of the All-England Junior Dueling Championship, you have lost. Dark Magic is, of course, disallowed, as is permanent maiming or disabling. Matches to last a maximum of ten minutes."

Flitwick stopped for a breath, then continued. "Any interference in the duel will result in the offending student's expulsion from the competition. At the end of this round, the winning students will go through to the second round, and the house with the most winners will be awarded thirty points, the second twenty, the third ten."

"We'll start as the tapestry says- Nimmle and Martin, don't be shy, come on up." Corfax and a smiley Gryffindor boy took to either side of the stage. The score-post at the centre flickered, one side becoming yellow, the other red to represent the houses to which the boys belonged. "On my signal- bow- three, two, one-"

Two _flipendos _crackled into life at the exact same time from the two boys' wands. Corfax was sweating profusely, but also had better aim. His spell hit Martin in the ear, whereas Martin's missed him by an inch or so. Another round of spells, this time _verdimillioses_, were used. Martin had noticed (it was somewhat hard not to) that Corfax was quite rotund and slow, so he aimed centrally this time. His spell hit the poor Hufflepuff in the nose, sending him rocketing back, bouncing on his bottom. The score-post made a 'ding!' noise and Martin was awarded the advantage.

Corfax got back up, his face now beetroot-red, and nodded for the round to continue. He used a weak Blasting Charm that hit Martin on the leg, making him wobble and misdirect his stumbling hex.

Martin, angry now and being cheered on by his fellow Gryffindors, wound up and let off a particularly nasty Fish-Lips charm, taking Corfax off-guard. His face began to swell and his pink lips ballooned to a frightening size, compromising his vision, even hanging off his face like some strange new organ.

"Finish it!" The Gryffindors chanted, whooping and hollering. All Martin then did was a simple stunning charm and Corfax, unable to see what was going on, was hit in the stomach and fell. The score-post dinged again and Martin was given the win. Gryffindor whooped as he bowed and jumped down. Flitwick had employed several seventh-year students to help with the counter-cursing, and these ferried Corfax off to a make-shift sick bay that had been constructed behind the teachers' table.

"Excellent! Martin, if I may say, try not to be so vociferous with your charms, but wonderful nevertheless! Now, Lockhart and… Mothley, C? Ah, Clarissa, yes, take your positions…"

They bowed and got ready. Flitwick signaled for them to start, and before Lockhart even knew what was coming, Clarissa growled "_Immobulus!_"

Gil froze on the spot, totally unmoving. Clarissa then send two stunning charms his way. She gained advantage, then win, in barely ten seconds. Even Flitwick was rather stunned.

"W-Well done, my dear…" he said, glancing over to where Professor Killory was trying to break up two fourth-years who had been transfigured into warthogs by accident and were now wrestling. "Match to Slytherin, then…"

Rissa didn't even bow as she got off the stage. Lucy whistled under her breath. "So it's true… Killory has been making them practice, like, every evening."

"Does she want her house to win that badly?" Conny asked.

"Probably. Slytherin haven't won anything since all their best students went off to become Death Eaters."

"Shhh!" Conny chided, looking anxiously around for any Slytherins that might have heard her. "If it's more enemies you're after, you're going the right way about it!"

"Pssh." Lucy flipped her long hair over her shoulder haughtily. "I'll be fine. I'm only up against Feol."

True to her word, Lucy got up on stage and disarmed the black boy immediately before, amusingly, making him grow a scaly tail and a beak before stunning him out of the competition. She gave a great flourish of a bow and hopped down as McGonagall was called over to deal with the improper transfiguration.

"Minerva, I am of course very sorry, but-"

"These kinds of spells can be very dangerous!" McGonagall said furiously, removing Feol's tail and beak. "Did you teach this?"

"Transfiguration is _your _subject."

"We've barely covered inanimate objects, let alone humans!"

"Well, he's looking fine now, we'll continue. Thank you for your help-"

"Don't expect it again!" McGonagall gave Lucy a death-glare and stormed off when she saw that a third-year had conjured a cloud that was raining beetles. "This is chaos!" She could be heard grumbling. "Donovan, for Merlin's sake, point your wand somewhere else!"

Flitwick cleared his throat and wiped his brow. "Well, anyway… DeHayersae and Crymge!"

Feeling as though she had an orgy of basilisks in her stomach, Conny climbed the stairs to the platform. She could see Ralphus grinning darkly and flexing his wand menacingly, his dark hair falling over his face. "I'll make you sorry you even came here, _Conyeri_."

"I love you too." She replied, teeth gritted. How should she start? It was obvious that he'd go straight for a strong spell… maybe a stun? Likely, or he'd use his trademark Trembling Jinx. She went through all the spells she knew. How few there were! She was only a first-year, after all. She wasn't even twelve yet. How was she supposed to work under this pressure?

"Ready? Bow." Flitwick said. They bowed stiffly to one another, wands out. "Three… two… PRUDENCE, WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT BABOON?"

"It's my boyfriend, sir!" A girl said from somewhere, but Ralphus had already started the duel with a powerful Vermillious charm. Conyeri who was looking at Flitwick, was hit under the chin with the bolt of red light and thrown across the stage. Something cracked in her neck and she gasped, an explosion of pain hitting her. Ralphus laughed.

"_Aguamenti!_" he yelled, a stream of water erupting from the end of his wand. It hit Conny with perfect aim, exactly where Ralphus had wanted it- her mouth. She didn't have a moment to think _bastard _before a flash of yesterday came to her unheeded: the choking, breathless, dizzy sensation of drowning… six sets of dark eyes under hooded cloaks on her… encroaching darkness…

With a start, she saw a face she recognized. Professor Killory, in their first lesson together. The vision came to her unheeded. _Diligence_, the beautiful woman was saying, smiling ever so slightly, her eyes piercing. _If you do not allow your mind to be intimidated, neither will your body._

The sight of Killory calmed her. She could feel the water on her face, but it was no longer powerful, no longer evocative. She turned her head to the side, removing her mouth from the jet, coughed up a large amount of water, and gripped her wand tightly in slick fingers.

"_Bombarda!_" She spluttered, her wand pointed towards the grinning Ralphus. His eyes went wide and he dodged out of the way, but wasn't nearly quick enough. A small explosion went off next to his thigh, and with a roar he stumbled backwards, clutching the injured area.

She didn't even care about the score now. She supposed he'd won, but nevertheless she cried "_Vermillious!_" With great gusto, hitting his forehead. "_Vermillious! Ver-_"

"_Tremulus!_" Ralphus roared. The two bots of light, hers red, his light blue, met in the middle and burst into a shower of stinging purple sparks. Conny caught one in her stomach and yelped as it burned through her jumper, but Ralphus took one on the hand, the shock causing him to twitching and drop his wand.

She took the chance. "_Algaseata!_"

Ralphus stumbled and teetered on the edge of the stage, covered in seaweed, then lost his balance on algae-covered feet and slipped, toppling off the stage into the Gryffindors. They hastily parted, allowing him to come down hard on his shoulder on the stone floor.

Flitwick, who had been distracted by a seventh-year girl who was running around with a fire-breathing baboon, squeaked and fell off the stage himself, all flustered. "Someone help Mr. Crymge!" He said, muffled by a tapestry falling onto him.

Derek came forward and pointed his wand at Ralphus, saying '_Siccus_' under his breath, evaporating the seaweed and allowing his friend to breathe. He helped the welsh boy up, though his eyes were unfocused and he was stumbling all over the place. He passed out once Derek got him to a nearby sofa (it had appeared after Dumbledore realized how tired and injured his students were getting), shuddering slightly.

Conny managed to sit up, shaking water out of her clothes. She was soaking wet and she ached from all the spells she'd been hit with, but she felt amazing. Wiping hair out of her eyes, she tumbled down from the stage in time to see the tapestry give her a little crown and move her into the next round. Lucy caught her, but was a bit skinny to support her. Surprisingly, since Jonmarc was up for his duel next and was already mounting the stage, Rissa Mothley came to help Lucy transport her to an armchair that someone had blasted across from the fourth-year stage. It was still smoking slightly from a large blast-shaped burn in the back, but was soft and squishy and perfect for the utterly exhausted Conny.

"You were amazing." Lucy gushed, giving her a light hug affectionately. "You really showed that cheating son of a doxy that he's not the hot stuff he thinks he is."

"Mmm." She agreed sleepily. A seventh-year helper came over with the same device that Madam Pomfrey had used yesterday and checked her, but didn't see anything to worry about. He recommended sleep and common sense snarkily before rushing off to deal with a second-year girl who was being devoured by a conjured pot-plant.

"Your dueling was excellent." Rissa remarked, idly wringing out Conny's sopping robes. "Professor Killory told us that it was nearly impossible to get up from your position and go on to win."

"Well," Conny giggled, feeling light-headed. "Professor Killory isn't always right."

"She is seldom wrong." Rissa said dolefully, looking over at her. "It is a shame she will only be here a year."

"Huh?"

"Oh, yeh, the whole cursed job thing." Lucy said, eyeing the Psychomancer. "That is a shame. Then again, I don't think I could take more than a year of bloody _Diligence_."

"It is a useful skill." Rissa argued, but they quietened down to watch Jonmarc's duel with Bill Weasley. The red-headed boy was good, very good- he was, of course, a pure-blood wizard. His parents had probably taught him a few tricks. A nasty hex caught Jonmarc's foot as he dodged, causing it to sprout mushrooms that gave off a foul-smelling cloud of spores. Jonmarc countered with several spells in quick succession. He gained an advantage after knocking Bill back, but then Bill hit him with a stun and Jon lost his cool, sending jinxes flying everywhere, actually taking out the fourth-year Hufflepuff chaser Gwenog Jones, who was in the middle of an argument with a friend. Her head turned into a slug-like protuberance.

"Oh dear. Jon's lost his cool." Lucy noted as the French boy narrowly dodged another stun. "Bagsy not comforting him later."

"Don't be cruel." Conny yawned, her eyes barely keeping up with the duels. "Oi, Gil!"

Lockhart caught his name and turned, then walked over at her beckoning. "What?"

"Listen, mate, you've already lost, right? So you've left the competition."

"I know."

"Canya make sure Jonmarc wins, then?"

His eyes widened. "No way! Flitwick would have my head. That's cheating."

"You cheated on that History of Magic test last week." Lucy pointed out cheekily. "And don't look at it as cheating… it's more… tactics."

"No. I'm not doing it."

"Two galleons?"

"Not worth it."

"Conny will do your Transfiguration homework until the end of term."

"And two galleons."

"Deal." Lucy and Gil shook on it. Conny's mouth hung open.

"Wait just a minute-!"

But Gil was already gone, slipping his wand out. Once he got to the stage, he whispered something and a nearly invisible jet of heat whizzed straight at Bill's wand hand. He yelped and dropped it, blisters welling up on his sizzling flesh.

"In for the kill Jon!" The Ravenclaws chanted. Jonmarc blinked, unsure of how he'd got the advantage, but Bill was picking up his wand already, so he fired off a vermillious.

His hesitation cost him the match. Bill managed to duck and grab his wand, flicking it across in a Tripping Hex. Jon fell, and because Bill was already in possession of the advantage, the score-post dinged and the Weasley boy won.

Gil shrugged, and Lucy made a rude hand gesture at him. "No win, bet's off." She mouthed.

He angrily ran off.

They didn't stay to watch the rest. Conny passed out somewhere between Professor Sinistra being hit in the eye with a fifth-year's stray curse and Corfax's lips finally getting back to relatively normal size. Lucy and Rissa carried her back to the Ravenclaw Tower, while Jonmarc glumly trailed behind them, nursing a mysterious hand injury that probably indicated that he'd punched a wall in frustration.

They reached Charlie the eagle knocker in no mood to answer a riddle. Charlie grinned at then (as much as a eagle could grin, anyway), and observed the tired crew. "You cannot enter, Clarissa."

Rissa shrugged and gently let Conny down, so Lucy and Jon could share her weight. "Tomorrow, then."

She turned to leave, then thought of something. "Here. Conyeri will need it when she wakes up." Rissa took a small, thin vial stoppered with a tarnished silver snake and handed it to Lucy.

"What is it?"

The Slytherin raised an eyebrow. "It is not poison, if that is your concern, Lucelia."

Lucy paused, eyes narrowing. "We're back to that, _Clarissa_?"

"We are if you do not trust me."

"All right then!" Lucy grabbed the vial and its light-blue contents, scowling. "Have a good night."

"The same to you." Rissa disappeared down the staircase. Lucy snorted and inspected the vial critically, but couldn't honestly say what it was. She wasn't sure if she trusted Rissa totally. Killory liked Conny and all, but she wasn't sure how deeply the DADA teacher's will to win the house cup for Slytherin went. If you wanted to nip Ravenclaw's point-scoring in the bud, the first-years were a good place to start. Teachers were renowned for, in most cases, (exceptions like that ghastly git Snape came to mind) giving points quite liberally to first-years.

"Well, give us the riddle then!" She snapped at Charlie, who'd been looking sagely at them.

"The impatience of youth." He sighed. "Very well. Who is the last to know yet the first to be told?"

Lucy's lips curled. "Very funny, Charlie."

"I see nothing humourous about it, if my opinion is worth anything." The knocker said mournfully.

"The last to know and the first to be told," Lucy sneered, "Is the traitor."

"Indeed it is, Lucy Ra." Charlie said.

They strode into the Common Room. It was relatively empty, since most people were still dueling. The Grey Lady floated through absentmindedly, inspecting her portrait critically before teasing the portrait of Basil Fronsac for a bit. Jonmarc helped Lucy up until the enchanted staircase up to the girls' dorms.

"Sleep well, Jon." Lucy said. "Listen, Bill is a really good wizard. There was no shame in your losing to him."

"Je sais." He sighed. "Mais… ah, ca n'est pas important. Bon-nuit, Lucie."

"Bon-nuit, Jonmarc."

She tugged Conny back up the stairs she'd pulled her down just yesterday, quite annoyed that her friend seemed to have fallen into the habit of passing out at important times. That said, she looked fondly down at her roommate. Conny was wonderful- normal, with a touch of curiosity that made her interesting. Lucy was all smoke and mirrors and laughing it off. She probably wasn't a very good friend either. Frowning at herself, she changed Conny into her pyjamas and tucked her up in bed. Lucy was fine with doing these things- little favours, she thought- but would she bail when her life or rep hung in the balance? Probably. Her family had never been very trustworthy.

Thinking it a perfect time, she took out another piece of parchment and wrote a letter to her brother.

_Cell Fourty-Seven, Azkaban Prison, North Sea_

_Dear Khai,_

_Things are good here. Hallowe'en was… eventful, to say the least. My roommate nearly drowned. We had the first round of the Dueling thing. I beat my guy easy, but Conny did one better. You know the Crymges- Darla and Eric? The Dept. of Magical Law Enforcement goons that sent Jahnen down for two years? She beat the shit out of their son, Ralphus. He tried a dirty trick._

_I think I'll stay with Conny this Christmas. She'll say yes, no worries. She's really nice. When you get out, you can meet her. So don't worry about me._

_Everyone says hi. We miss you, Khai. You'll be out soon, I promise._

_Love,_

_Lucy._

Lucy tried to go to sleep, but Conny was twisting and turning in bed, groaning. She could only imagine the horrible dreams that she'd be having. Ralphus was a really horrible person, to torture Conny with water the day after she'd drowned. She cracked her knuckles and vowed to take revenge on that smarmy welsh prat.

Conny suddenly woke with a shout, causing Lucy to stuff the letter into a textbook hastily. She was crying and breathing heavily, tears streaming down her face.

"Shhh." She went over, Rissa's potion in hand, and sat on the edge of Conny's bed. "You're okay now. Shhh. Here, drink this."

She offered the blue liquid and Conny shakily downed it, her fingers trembling almost too much to hold the vial. A few seconds passed before Conyeri's body became heavy and calm. The desperate fear in her eyes left, replaced with a sort of glazed-over look. She laid back on the pillow, breathing rhythmically. Lucy looked at the empty vial, wondering how Rissa could have known, and why on earth would she have such a potion on her person anyway? She sat stroking Conny's hair until she fell asleep again.

Lucy got into bed, but try as she may, she still couldn't fall asleep.


	10. Chapter 9

_**SO**_ sorry about the lateness of this. I'll put like three chapters up now. I had a load of AS-level retakes (cuz I ballsed them up last year and apparently a C in Chemistry and Biology doesn't get you into med school), so my brain was full of redox and Simpson's Reciprocal index and polypeptide chains and all sorts of (un)interesting things.

Note: I should again remind you that this story happens in 1982, and in Britain. Doctor Who was big in the eighties, as it is again nowadays, and the Doctor of the age was Peter Davidson, who, despite myself, I quite fancy. Please feel free to ask anything.

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I make any profit from, Harry Potter or it's associated trademarks.

Chapter Eight: Doctor Who?

December came like a master confectioner, swooping down onto Hogwarts with a vengeance. He iced the towers with a thick layer of white, until the castle would not have looked out of place in a snow-globe. Scarves and hats were a must, even between lessons, because the corridors were not heated in the slightest. Going outside during break times was madness for the first-years- you were more than likely to end up on the receiving end of an enchanted snowball. Conny had many times been minding her own business, reading a book or heading for a lunch-time of ice skating on the Black Lake, only to be knocked ten feet across into a bank of snow or a tree or even, once, a group of fifth-years who were not at all happy.

She invited Lucy to stay with her at Christmas after checking with her parents, using Gil Lockhart's owl, Soffy. He'd apparently inherited it from his mother. Figures, with a name like _Soffy. _They were overjoyed that she'd made friends.

Unfortunately, end-of-term exams were also the mode. McGonagall made them transfigure a stick of rock into a fountain pen- Conny's pen still tasted sugary by the time the lesson ended. Flitwick had them levitating marble busts of eminent goblins for a whole period, and as a result of their skill they had to stay behind and demonstrate that they could use _reparo _effectively as well. In an amusing mixture between a test and a party, Sprout had them fertilizing Enthusipansies using a strange brew of dragon dung, coca-cola and marzipan, which were apparently the optimal conditions for their growth.

Snape didn't give them a test. It was business as usual: instructions on board, make potion, have potion inspected, and lose points whatever the outcome. Conyeri left her last potions lesson before the holidays began feeling very bitter and wishing she'd taken Max Borridge's offer of two sickles for a dozen dungbombs. She wondered what Snape would say if she accidentally dropped one in his office. Probably _Thirty points from Ravenclaw and detention!_ She mused, glaring at him as she left the room.

Killory was a whole other kettle of fish. She was not a Christmassy person and had given four weeks' detention to the group of fourth-years that had bust in and decorated her classroom with magical ice swans, evergrow holly and mistletoe, and a fully enchanted nativity scene using only barbies.

"A muggle holiday is no reason to become lax." She growled while correcting Feol on his hexing posture. "Montgomery!" She screamed at one of Lucy's friends. "That toad will be your lunch if you do not start paying attention!"

Polly grudgingly put down her toad, Gabrielle, and picked up her wand.

Conny didn't mind it so much, though, as after her round of dueling with Ralphus, she found it easier than anybody else to use Diligence. Even Lucy's various jinxes were now hardly effective, although she had once grown a cactus from her nose when she'd gotten distracted by Jonmarc's swearing. Lucy was getting better too, and because they frequently partnered up, the other students called them as the 'Diligence Duo'. Conny was proud that she was able to earn the points back in Defense Against the Dark Arts that she lost so frequently in Potions.

When the last day of school came, Conny remembered that she still hadn't managed to get into the Restricted Section of the Library to find out about Lucy's brothers or Professor Killory.

She and Lucy packed together, very excited. Conny had never had a friend around for Christmas, and Lucy had never been into a house in the good part of London (legally). Jonmarc was glumly staying at Hogwarts, seeing as how his parents were busy working in Paris, and there was nobody to escort him from King's Cross.

"You should've told us!" Lucy said.

"It wouldn't 'ave made a difference." He moaned, flicking through a stiff paperback. Conny noticed it.

"Where'd you get that, Jon?"

"If you pay ze older students, zey will buy things for you in 'Ogsmeade."

"Oh." Conny remembered Bill Weasley needing something from there as well. "Thanks. I'll remember that."

"Oh, and zere is something on ze board about flying lessons next term." He mentioned. "Apparently zey postponed zem because of ze Duelling."

"Flying? Like, Quidditch?"

"Oui."

"Ali was on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team before he was expelled." Lucy said. "He played Beater."

"My dad spent a year as Hufflepuff Chaser, but he had exams so he quit."

They went back up to finish packing, and then made the long and arduous journey down from the Ravenclaw Tower with their trunks in tow. They were on the third floor before Conny realized how silly she was being and cast _Wingardium Leviosa _on hers. Things went smoother after that.

They loaded their bags onto horseless carriages, with Lucy looking distinctly unwell and distracted.

"What's wrong?" Conny asked.

"The… the things pulling the carriages. What are they?"

Conny looked at her funny. "There's nothing pulling the carriages, Luce. Are you okay?"

"Yeh. I'm fine. It's nothing." Lucy bit her lip and looked pointedly at the silver fastenings on Conny's warm winter cloak the entire trip to the station. In the daylight, Conny got her first look at some of Hogsmeade. There was a high street full of shops and several snow-iced houses, chimneys puffing out curls of smoke. People milled about. A couple of old witches barely recognizable under layers of shawls and robes trundled down the street with bags of shopping; a goblin hurried between houses, muttering darkly. Two grizzled warlocks were arguing over a human skull encrusted with tiny blue diamonds.

Conny's eyes were drawn to an attractive man in his early thirties. He was rugged in an appealing kind of way, but he was a little malnourished. He was cursing a large bunch of keys in his hands as he tried to lock up a shop named Dogweed and Deathcap. The name rang a bell. He looked around suspiciously before finding the right key and then smoothing his hair and appearance out before he strode towards the station, charming smile on his face.

He was stopped by a short, hooded figure. He pulled something from his pocket and handed it over furtively, recieveing a handful of gold galleons in exchange.

It all looked awfully suspicious.

Lucy tugged at her arm and they quickly boarded the train, their trunks loaded on behind them by smartly dressed attendants. They found a carriage for themselves easily enough- lots of students were staying the holidays- and planned what presents they would like to receive. The suggestions got more and more ludicrous until Conny suggested she would quite like to ride a dragon to and from lessons at school, so that would be on her list as well. They then took turns losing at Exploding Snap, but got bored around Leeds and started sneaking around carriages hexing people without them looking. They managed to hit Max Borridge with a Rabbit-Tooth jinx, but then were caught by an irate prefect for accidentally transfiguring his girlfriend into a teapot and given an hour-long lecture on the proper use of magic. When he left, Lucy slipped a dungbomb into his back pocket and pick-pocketed his wallet. They spent the money on sweets and fell asleep as night descended.

Conny's parents met them at Platform 9 and 3/4 with a merry smile and an assortment of hideous hats and scarves that they expected the girls to wear. As they travelled through the packed underground, Conny had to forcefully hold Lucy's hand to stop her indulging her light-fingered habits on the throng of muggle Christmas shoppers. She was sure her parents would just assume that they were very good friends.

"So, Lucy." Her dad asked politely as they sat on the underground. "What do your parents do?"

"They were curse-breakers." Lucy explained. "That's how they met. Dad was a native, and mum was a British witch on his team."

"Wow. Sounds really interesting." David said.

"And what do you do, Mr. DeHayersae?" Lucy asked politely.

"David is fine. And I'm a PR manager for Wog & Holles."

"And you, Mrs. DeHayersae?"

Elizabeth looked surprised to be asked. "I used to work in logistics too, but I'm retraining as a teacher."

"Cool. What do you want to teach?"

"Probably Home Economics, or PSHE."

Lucy looked confused for a moment. "Muggle subjects." Elizabeth explained, smiling. "Home Economics is… cooking, and looking after yourself. Like how to wash clothes, how to run a house. PSHE is… like, um, David, how would you explain it to a wizard?"

"It's teaching you not to drink, do drugs, or have sex." David said bluntly. His wife hit him hard and scowled. "It's true! Anyway, Conny, your birthday is coming up really soon, but we're at loss as to what to get you."

"Can I have an pet?"

David brightened up. "Of course! We should have thought of it before. Do you want an owl?"

"I wouldn't use it often enough, I think. I'd quite like a cat."

"I love cats!" Lucy said randomly. "My brother Khai used to keep literally hundreds in his house. Dead useful, cats. They won't deliver your mail, but they're fearsomely intelligent, especially wizard-bred stock."

Conyeri's parents exchanged a look before agreeing. "Sounds great. Would you like to come with us and pick, Lucy?"

"If I'm no inconvenience." She smiled coyly. Conny glared at her. Lucy was very polite and charming… when adults were around. How duplicitous of her.

"Of course not! Conyeri's birthday is so close to Christmas that we rarely have anyone not in the family over. It will be lovely." Elizabeth said.

"And while we're in Diagon Alley, we can have lunch at The Merlin to celebrate." David said hungrily, patting his stomach.

They hopped off at the family's stop and caught a cab to their house. David did well to pay in muggle money, though his wife did have to distinguish coins for him. Conny hoped that Lucy wasn't disappointed at how ordinary it was. Of course, David had performed a few surreptitious enlarging charms on it, so that the sitting room was almost the width of the entire ground floor of the house next door and the upstairs bathroom was a sunken Jacuzzi three metres across.

"Wow." Lucy grinned as they stepped inside. "It's so clean. And big!"

"Don't your parents have enlarging charms on your house?"

"Ali is the only brother of mine that bothered, and I don't like staying with him."

"Ah." David said, finally noticing that Lucy was being effusive about her parents. "Messy divorce?"

"Messy death."

"Oh." Her parents said in tandem. "I'm so sorry, honey. That was really rude of David to pry."

Lucy shrugged. "It's all right. It was a while ago."

Elizabeth, being a mother herself, gave Lucy a big hug while David went to make some cocoa. "We'll put your things upstairs. David's enlarged Conyeri's room so that you can both sleep there."

"Thanks." Lucy said earnestly, allowing Conny to lead her into the sitting room. They sat together on a squashy sofa, putting the television on. One of Elizabeth's stipulations for moving in with her magical husband was that she had to retain her muggle comforts. The microwave, television and house phones were all obvious indications of this, though they'd been tampered with magically so much over the years that the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office would have a field day if they inspected the place.

Lucy reacted violently to the television blaring into life. She jumped and squealed as the BBC News came on.

"Wh-What… What is it?"

"A Television, Lucy. Don't worry; it's not going to eat you. At least, not unless we watch The Muppet Show, but don't worry, this isn't ITV."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Lucy said, still glaring suspiciously at the newsreader. "So… how does it work?"

"Muggles record things using a special camera that doesn't take one picture, but takes lots very quickly. It puts them together so fast that they look like real life. Then, they broadcast it, kind of like the Wizarding Wireless- but pictures and sound instead of just sound."

"So… it's like a Wireless with pictures?"

"Yeh. Exactly." Conny said encouragingly, flicking channels. "There's a re-run of Doctor Who on. We can watch that."

It was an episode from earlier in the year. Conny had to explain the premise of the show to Lucy, who was still wary of the pictures that moved but didn't talk to her.

"The man in the cricket outfit is cute." She observed after their cocoa had been brought through.

"He's the Doctor." Conny reminded her. "He's thousands of year old."

"Nah. You look like Dumbledore when you get old." Lucy snorted. "This guy doesn't even have a beard. You need a beard to be old."

"My dad doesn't have a beard, and he's ancient."

David yelled: "I heard that!" From the kitchen, and the girls burst into giggles. They finished their hot drinks and became drowsy. Elizabeth showed Lucy where the important things were before they crashed in Conny's bedroom. David had conjured up a big feather bed for Lucy to sleep on, and had provided bedcovers that showed the giant squid eating a group of Slytherins. Lucy subtly changed it with a quick spell to the squid eating Ralphus Crymge. Utterly exhausted, they cleaned their teeth and fell asleep with not even a minute of talking after lights out.


	11. Chapter 10

The second chapter of today's triple-update. Interestingly, I've actually just finished writing the Christmas arc for book two of this story… looking back at this one is cute :)

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I make any profit out of Harry Potter or its associated trademarks.

Chapter Nine: The Whole Family

London was mired under the snow for the whole holiday season; the weather-wizards at the Ministry were lobbying for a pay rise, apparently. The children enjoyed it, anyway, and soon the back garden at Conyeri's address was full of squabbling snowmen. They'd been to Diagon Alley just two day before; today was December 24th, and the smell of Christmas was on the air.

The family were beginning to arrive in dribs and drabs; Uncle Terry turned up on a broomstick so old that Conyeri hardly recognized it, followed by an explosion that heralded the arrival of her cousins Florence and Charlotte, who stumbled out of the fireplace covered in ashes. Auntie Belinda and Uncle Roger came in their battered ford (muggles, Uncle Terry muttered, looking at the car with an obvious look of disdain), but were beaten to the door by Conny's aged witch Great-Grandmother Paula, who apparated right in front of them. Cousins and nephews ran amok, taking advantage of the living snowmen and the vastly enlarged house. Muggle relations of her mother's talked freely with wizards on her father's side: the family had known for some years that David was magical, and were thankfully quite accepting. Well, not Great-Uncle Dylan, but he never came for Christmas anyway, the old, miserable git.

"I thought my family was big!" Lucy muttered as they were tasked with finding yet another set of linens to go on a hastily conjured bed; this time, Conny's little five year old niece, a witch about as in control of her magic as several of the elder generation were of their bowels (A new toilet had been constructed from the airing cupboard, hence the search for linens), and kept setting things on fire when she got scared of her bullying older cousins, mostly boys. "Why have them all over?"

Conny shrugged. "Tradition, I suppose. They'd be sad if we left someone out."

Her eighteen-year-old cousin once removed Joshua walked by trying to chat up a pretty girl from the other side of the family. The victim, Caroline Dallery (father's niece), took her wand out threateningly and gave him a little hex, turning his ears to lips. He yelled from three mouths and ran away. "I do wish the magical lot would stop jinxing people, though. We always end up with one in St. Mungo's by Boxing Day."

"Do I want to know?"

"No. You see Roger over there?" She motioned to the already quite drunk muggle eyeing the cocktail sausages with suspicion. "Cannibal Cheese Cube incident of '75. Don't talk about it with him."

"That's in Charm Your Own Cheese, isn't it?"

"Nah, it's in Curse Your Own Cheese, the sequel. Dad thought it would be funny, but Roger lost half his duodenum."

"Ouch."

"Lesson: avoid the canapés." They both winced as Cousin John, a fourteen-year old muggle, was attacked by the whole bowl of furious cocktail sausages.

Two days before - Conny's birthday - they'd gone to the Magical Menagerie to pick a cat. It had been difficult, because they were all so lovely, but she'd settled on a young Chartreux with a grey-blue coat and large, copper-coloured eyes. The smiley but haggard and plaster-covered saleswitch informed her that his name was Bach, and that he was a fine cat for a Hogwarts student. He was now curled over Conny's shoulder, looking out with interest at the humans.

"If I was an animagus, I'd be a cat." Lucy said. "You can get in all sorts of interesting places."

"I'd be something that could fly. Like a bird of prey."

"Come off it! You're too whimpy!"

"Am not!"

Lucy stuck her tongue out and they went into the garden to play for a while. Inside, a sumptuous stew was overboiling in the kitchen (it was suspected that one of the kids had put some powdered dragon claw in it, because Uncle Terry was hopping mad and randomly doing his 458 times tables), and David was running around doing drinks. The December 24th dinner was a formality that was always observed; immediately after it was finished, the goal was to be drunk solidly until lunchtime on Christmas Day.

"So Thatcher says: 'Muramar, it's the foreign secretary's cactus, and he's entitled to do whatever he wants with it!'"

A roar of laughter erupted from the sitting room as someone finished telling a joke. David sighed and poured out another champagne. He'd lost the draw and was going sober the whole time.

With a ding, the gravy was finished heating in the microwave. He took it out and placed the massive tureen of it on the table next to the steaming potatoes. Two teenage nephews helped to manhandle the cauldron full to the centre and put it down with a clunk.

"DINNER!" He yelled at the top of his voice, causing the china in the cabinet on the opposite wall to shake a bit. Nothing happened for a brief second, and then, as the glass chandelier on the ceiling shook and tinkled ominously, a stampede broke through into the dining room, nearly knocking David off his feet. Chairs were taken and squabbled over, alliances were made and the best dishes were snatched away by the quickest people. There were, quite impossibly, about thirty people around the table, including small children. David's heart swelled with pride at his family and his family-in-law. Many people called him a wretched liberalist, but he genuinely felt that this was a perfect example of how wizards and muggles could co-exist. If it could happen in a semi-detached house in west London, why couldn't it happen all over the world?

"Pass the potatoes, Davey." A familiar voice asked. Only those who knew him in his Hogwarts days dared call him that nickname. One best friend was permitted per person (Conny had brought Lucy, Elizabeth, a charming woman named Susan, and David had of course invited Ewan along), and who to bring but his best friend, Ewan Liramy. Age had not been as kind to Ewan as it had to David, but he was still the smart-aleck kid he'd always been.

"Carbohydrates, coming your way." David passed him the hot bowl full of sautee potatoes.

"Thank'ee." Ewan said, wiping his moustache. "Who's the girl next to your Conyeri, then?"

"That's Lucy. They're friends at Hogwarts."

"Ah, what a place! I do miss my time there." Ewan said, almost sadly. "Where's she from, then, little Lucy?"

David chuckled. "Why the interest?"

"I've seen someone that looks like her before… I just can't place it."

"She's half-Egyptian, I think she said. Her parents were curse-breakers."

Ewan froze. "Surely not the Ra family?"

"Yes, that was it."

"Davey, take my word for this. You don't want any of them going near your little girl. I remember where I've seen Lucy before- sitting in court, crying her eyes out, as her brother was sentenced to life at Azkaban."

"Azkaban?" David asked, incredulous. "Sometimes I wish I worked at the ministry. What did he do?"

"Double murder. His own parents."

Their conversation was now in whispers. Across the table, a young boy was struggling to get a parsnip out of where it was wedged up his nose. "Surely not!"

"True as the sun in the sky, Davey. They're a bad lot. I don't confess to know about Lucy there, but if she follows her brothers, she's walking down a dark path."

"She's just an eleven-year-old girl." David protested, finding it difficult to take his eyes off the girl next to his daughter. "Why are you always the harbinger of bad news?"

"I'm afraid it comes with the job."

"Wizengamot…" David said under his breath, finishing some cauliflower. "Well, at least I've been warned."

"Keep an eye on it, I'd say." Ewan said.

"I will."

David was in such a dour mood that as soon as the last dregs of pudding and Irish coffee had been finished, he cast a cleaning spell on the table and went up to his room and cast a silencing charm on it, blocking out the noise from downstairs. He looked at the photo of his family. Conny was growing up, making friends, and he couldn't control whom she liked and didn't like. He knew from experience that you had to have your own, unique, Hogwarts experience- nobody could map it out for you and choose what you should do. He sighed and ruffled his hair, checking it in the mirror. It was beginning to recede. He mused that as he began to grow old, his daughter grew strong and brave. It wasn't his time any more, as much as he'd like to believe. He strode over to his bedside table and pulled out a letter. It was an invitation to take the position of Professor of Magical Art at Hogwarts. He wanted so much to be back there, to re-live his adolescence, but tonight had made him realize that he couldn't do that. He wrote a short reply and sent it off with his owl, Beethoven.

"You'd better be worth it, Conyeri." He muttered to the sky. "Do me proud."

The owl, and his youth, disappeared from sight together, hand in hand.

-0-

It snowed furiously on Christmas Day, but there were far too many people at the DeHayersae house to fit together indoors. A truly monstrous Christmas tree had been grown in the middle of the back garden, which was being protected from the weather by a giant shield charm. Baubles the size of footballs clinked together as the tree rustled and seemed to strain against the tinsel adorning it. Presents were piled underneath, small, large, of all shapes and sizes. One was breathing fire. Chairs had been hastily conjured for the adults, who were woozy beyond redemption by now.

The three youngest children were present giver-outers. Five-year-old Denise, a witch, and six-year old twins Harold and Henry (muggles) had the honour this year, since Cousin Ethel's two-year-old son was too young. They flung presents around with great enjoyment. Conny received several parcels, but it was polite to wait. Even Lucy's various brothers and friends had sent presents that reached her here, though one from Khai had 'Checked by the Department for Magical Law Enforcement Postal Surveillance Unit' stamped on it in shimmering green ink.

Once the presents were distributed, the order as given to begin. With a great communal tearing, over fifty presents were torn open by excited adults and children alike. Someone had sent Uncle Terry a boa constrictor.

"Love potions?" A bewildered muggle relation could be heard saying. "Do they really work?"

"Arnold gave me some last year… they went in the office tea, and I haven't been short of help since, if you know what I mean…"

"The Beano? Again?"

"It's a copy from 1948!"

Two boys argued over their presents a little way away. Conny looked down at her stash and grinned, since it was larger than Lucy's. She already had her present from her parents, Bach, who was curled up in her lap. Lucy opened a boxy-looking parcel wrapped in marvelous purple sparkly paper to reveal a splendid peacock-feather quill in a glass case, complete with several interchangeable nibs and coloured and enchanted inks.

"Nice!" She said.

"Who gave you that?"

"Jahnen."

Conny unwrapped one of hers, very carefully undoing the ribbon holding the paper together. "Oh?"

They were a very tattered pair of boots, dark blue and patchy in places. Conny looked at them, confused, before she saw a little note.

_Dearest Conyeri,_

_These used to belong to my son, your father's brother, and he made good use of them during his Hogwarts days. Both his sons are grown up now, so I suppose you have inherited them. Good Luck!_

_Christmas wishes,_

_Grandma_

Mystified, Conny looked at them closer. On the sole, something was written.

_Dr. Phadraigh D. Ralkin, Master Cobbler since 1693._

"No offence, but your Christmas presents are crap." Lucy said, looking at the boots.

"I'm sure they have some use." Conny replied, placing them behind her, frowning. "Grandma wouldn't give me something useless."

"Maybe she's lost her marbles?"

"Shuddup." Conny punched her lightly on the arm. "What was your haul while I was reading that note, then?"

Lucy presented her with the gifts she'd received: the quill from Jahnen, a box of mince pies with faces on that sang 'Good King Wenceslas' when you opened the box from Ali, a beautiful silver scroll case from Khai, and an leather case full of various exotic potion ingredients from her fourth brother, Alexi, who she'd never mentioned before. Conny's parents had gifted Lucy the bedcovers they'd enchanted that showed the giant squid eating various people depending on one's mood. A couple of aunts and uncles sent bath bombs and a packet of chocolate salamanders. "A good lot, I reckon. You?"

Apart from the mystifying boots, Conny had a wealth of bizarre presents to sift through. Florence and Charlotte had given her a book entitled _The Art of Romancy _by Delilah Lovesmote. Aunt Belinda, Uncle Roger and their son, John, had clubbed together to buy her a beautiful winter dress; Great-Grandmother Paula, along the same vein, offered a colour-co-ordinated set of self-ironing school shirts. Uncle Terry, true to his eccntric nature, had given her a fire-breathing alarm clock. The receipt was still in the box, though slightly singed, if she wanted to exchange it for anything at Gambol and Japes at Diagon Alley.

"I'd say I did okay, too." She grinned, stroking Bach affectionately. "Still, I wonder what those boots do?"

"Try 'em on and see." Lucy suggested. Conny took her slippers off and tugged the boots on. They were huge, but even she she thought this, they shrunk to her size, fitting snugly. "Nice."

"Is that all?" Conny said.

"Probably not." Lucy prodded them, frowning. "Mayeb they can walk up walls or something?"

"That would be cool!" Conny stood up, thinking to run up the back wall, but the pressure on the ground caused whatever enchantment that was woven into the boots to come into effect. Instead of just standing normally, Conny launched up into the air a good five or six metres, screaming like the little girl she was. She landed, surprisingly, without breaking any bones. Actually, she hardly felt the impact at all. She blinked and steadied herself. "Merlin!"

"Awesome!" Lucy giggled. "I think I know what those are! Wow…"

"Well, tell me." Conny said, tentatively walking a short distance normally. Nothing happened.

"They were made by this one shoemaker who lived in Ireland. It took a year just to make one pair, and he never told anyone else how to do it. He died last century, and since then, no more pairs have been made, because nobody found a way to replicate the charm properly. He called them carom boots, after the Billiards move." Lucy explained.

Conny nodded. She was walking around normally, but she could feel a strange… potetial. She angled herself towards the roof and stamped one of her feet really hard.

_Fwoosh! _She soared into the sky. She'd misjudged the force necessary to get onto the roof and soared over the whole house. She hit the shield bubble surrounding the garden with a thud and fell four metres onto the chimney.

"Conny!" Lucy shouted from the ground. "Are you okay?"

"Just fine." She grumbled, groaning as a puff of ashy smoke hit her in the face. "I love the taste of carbon."

"Far too young for sarcasm!" Great-Grandmother Paula said snappily, apparating up to the roof next to her. "Now, my dear, I see my daughter has given you a dangerous gift."

"Kinda."

"Yes. Well, you are totally within your rights to send them back to my fool of a child." Paula said.

"Uh- no, thanks. They're all right."

"Very well. I shan't be responsible for any of the trouble you get into." Paula disapparated back down to the tree, where the last of te adults were opening their presents. "No, Great-Gran… these are far too cool to send back."

"Conny, stop talking to yourself!" Lucy yelled. "Get your witch arse down here! There's Christmas Lunch to be had!"

Conny experimentally slid down the roof and jumped down, her new footwear absorbing the impact totally. A huge grin broke out over her face as she turned to look at Lucy, who had a similar glint of mischief in her eyes. They skipped arm in arm to lunch, which was magnificent. The table was groaning with lamb, chicken, turkey and beef; Yorkshire puddings the size of dessert bowls steamed like golden paddling pools filled with gravy. Crispy potatoes and parsnips simmered, accompanied by all manner of seasonal vegetables. By the time everyone was sitting down, several Brussels sprouts were already acting as tiny bludgers, zooming around and hitting unsuspecting family members. Pigs in blankets were very popular amongst the younger population, and as a result Conny and Lucy had to share the handful they'd managed to procure between themselves. Wine and conversation flowed freely. A flaming Christmas pudding appeared once the main course was finished and all the crackers had been pulled. Conny was now, inexplicably, dressed head to toe as a pirate, with Bach instead of a parrot on her shoulder. David had ended up as a builder through the magical costume crackers, and he was laughing with his wife, who was a medieval princess. Uncle Terry, much to his chagrin, was dressed in full knight's armour and having trouble eating his food.

Some deity with a sense of irony had made Lucy's cracker dress her as a robber. She had the classic black and white striped shirt, black hat and mask on, with a big bag labeled 'swag' over her shoulder. She was the only one who truly appreciated this irony.

A Yule log the size of an actual real log was hefted onto the table by a couple of older boys who'd been in charge of the kitchen. Auntie Belinda, dressed by her cracker as a ninja, dug in first, and the rest of the family soon followed. They devoured the log and then sat back to chat. Ice cream, brandy, and coffee were brought out after the spectacle of the flaming Christmas pudding, which was being ignored and was beginning to slowly crumble to ash in the centre of the table. A silver sickle embedded inside it was snatched up by a curious muggle relative, who pocketed it gleefully. By the time it was mid-afternoon, everybody was drunk and thoroughly stuffed. In fact, several parents were drunk enough to offer firewhisky to Conny and Lucy, thinking it amusing. They both managed four shots before they bottled out, feeling as though their throats were on fire.

"I'm never having alcohol again." Lucy said, chugging about a pint of water.

"Me either." Both of them knew that it was an empty promise, but firewhisky was really disgusting stuff, and they were only 12.

Half an hour later and feeling slightly woozy (how were they to have known that even the coffee was alcoholic?), Lucy and Conny retreated to their room with their presents. They'd stayed downstairs to watch the Queen's Speech, or as Lucy had called it, an old muggle lady in an ugly dress talking nonsense. When the Queen had begun to get sort of fuzzy and Conny had become fascinated with the beads on Lucy's shirt, it was time to retire.

They sprawled out on the thickly carpeted floor, giggling for a while.

"Hey, Conny?" Lucy asked.

"Yeh?"

"Do you ever get the feeling… like… we're in the dark?"

Conny propped herself up on her elbow. "What do you mean?"

"I dunno." Lucy said, exasperated. "I just… I just always wonder why people do things. I want everything to fit together. But it doesn't."

"Life isn't a Famous Five novel." Conny said sagely.

"What?"

"Never mind, muggle thing." Conny said. "But I understand. I think it's in our nature. I make links between things, but I can't think of a reason."

"Like what?" Lucy asked.

Conny paused. "Like… like Professor Killory being here, and the conversation I overheard… and why we're having the dueling competition, and who the man I saw in Hogsmeade was… I just want there to be a reason for it all."

"I wonder the same thing." Lucy said. "And why Rissa has changed so much."

"Changed? How so?"

"She never used to be like she is now. She was a real wild child. Angry, prone to fits of rage. Never could keep concentration, pretty bi-polar in general."

That description didn't fit at all with the Rissa that Conny knew. "That's… nothing like her."

"Exactly. I want to know what changed, and why." Lucy said.

Silence stretched between them, the noise from downstairs filtering through the cracks in the door. Conny got up the courage to ask what she'd been wondering about ever since she'd met Lucy. "Your family… what happened?"

Beside her, Lucy stiffened visibly, her eyes, which had been roaming, swiveled to stare and Conny and froze there. She looked as though a million different things to say were going through her mind. Finally, she sighed. "I'm not a good person, Conny. My eldest brother, Khai, was sent to prison for killing our parents when I was very young. We didn't have much money between us, and this was the time when the Dark Lord was very powerful. We used the confusion and the fear to make money- robbery, drugs, whatever. Back then, only Khai was old enough to do stuff, but he brought us up by himself. Jahnen, Ali, and Alexi all went through Hogwarts under his direction. They ran most of the illegal business that goes on here."

She saw Conny's look of astonishment and nodded. "It does go on, and you'd be naïve to think that just because Hogwarts is a magical school, its students are sensible enough not to indulge their vices."

"I honestly never thought about it. I knew that many sixth formers got drunk at Halloween, but…"

"That wasn't my doing. Alcohol is much easier to smuggle in. I think that fifth-year kid- Boris, was it? He and his mates do the drink at the moment. Ravenclaw has a bit of a reputation for supply of illegal substances."

"Seriously?"

"Yes." Lucy said, looking at the ceiling again. "It was mainly established by my brothers, but it's been happening a long time. I just worry, sometimes, that they'll start me in the family business- I'm not exactly innocent of any crimes anyway."

"You only pick-pocketed some people." Conny protested.

Lucy chuckled. "You didn't know me before you met me on the train, Conny. I've been raised for this. I even…" her voice broke, and she bit her lip. "I even do it naturally. I make friends… lots of friends. I get popular. Once I have a customer base, I can start selling. I know that. My brothers taught it to me since I was old enough to understand."

"You don't have to do anything." Conny said firmly.

"Conny, I'm eleven. I need to obey my older brothers. I need a home, and someone to pay my school fees. They may be bad people, but I love them."

"You could come and live here?"

"Nice of you to offer, but it's just not proper." Lucy sighed, feeling depressed. "It's getting dark and my head is spinning. We should go to sleep."

Conny felt like the conversation had been cut short. She looked at Lucy. Conny had always thought her friend beautiful; slightly oriental from her Egyptian father, with long, thick dark hair. Now, though, she looked her eleven years- young, fragile, and not up to dealing with her future. Conny enveloped her in a hug, being the larger and stronger of the two. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"You have a right to know." Lucy whispered, her tears dampening Conny's shoulder. "Do you hate me?"

"Hate you?" Conny looked at her. "Of course not! Don't be silly, Lucy. Whether you were a drug baron or the minister of magic, I'd still love you to bits."

Lucy hiccupped with laugher. "Is that a subtle hint?"

"You should run for office tomorrow."

"Maybe I will."

"By all means." They fell onto their respective beds, both physically and emotionally tired from the exchange. The lights dimmed and the curtains whisked themselves shut, so the only light came from the crack under the door. Conny burrowed under her covers and turned to look at her best friend. "No secrets?"

Lucy paused, before replying: "No secrets."


	12. Chapter 11

Last part of the triple-update. At the end of this chapter I've included some things about name inspirations :)

Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I making any profit out of Harry Potter and its associated trademarks.

Chapter Ten: The Draught of Peace

Conny had been chasing her cat, Bach, when she realized that she was stuck somewhere on the third floor at three o'clock in the morning. A staircase had vanished after she'd used it, and she couldn't find an alternative way back. Filch or any of the teachers or prefects could be anywhere. If she'd been one for swearing, she'd be cussing like a sailor.

The one good thing she had on her side were Grandma's boots. They allowed her to jump impossible distances and get to places that no other student would manage, but they couldn't handle the forty-five foot jump up to where the staircase had been. She found that she could use them to shoot forwards as well as upwards, which made running down corridors amazing and ridiculously dangerous. Haunting the castle at night wasn't something she'd taken up intentionally, but she wasn't fond of sleeping at the moment. She kept getting nightmares of drowning.

Bach's constant escapes were a good excuse as any for her wanderings. He was hard to follow, but easy to catch once he got sleepy and sat down to snooze, usually after a couple of hours spent running around or trying to catch mice. So far, she'd narrowly missed a run-in with a seventh-year Hufflepuff prefect, who'd been whistling loudly and reading a romantic novel by wand-light while patrolling. She'd tried to hide once from Filch in a disused classroom on the sixth floor, only to find Luke and Ally romantically entangled behind the teacher's desk. She'd run back out before they recognized her. She had, however, had time to admire Luke's musculature before taking her chances with Filch. Luckily, he'd rounded the corner by the time she'd hastily slipped out.

During these strolls, she heard things. Some were ordinary gossip between prefects patrolling in pairs ("Did you see Patricia and Kyle today? They looked like they'd had one hell of a fight!" or, occasionally, juicier gossip: "Steph reckons that Professor Vector is pregnant," and some pretty ludicrous rumours, too: "Professor Sinistra and Douglas Jenkins from Ravenclaw are having an affair!"). The best stuff was when teachers, who also patrolled around and about on rotation during the week, got together to talk, or, more rarely, shag. She'd seen Professor Sinistra (who wasn't having an affair with Douglas Jenkins, in fact) straightening her robes and patting her hair into place as she guiltily left the Muggle Studies teacher, Professor Quirrell's, office. Of course, she only told her select group of friends these tidbits, and never revealed how she came across it.

One thing that Conyeri dreaded was weekly Quidditch sessions with the hawk-eyed Madam Hooch. Conny wasn't that good at flying, having lived in London and not had many opportunities to get on a broomstick, but, to her surprise, Lucy was excellent. She darted between everyone else when they practiced laps, winning every race, though the bulky Hufflepuff boys they had lessons with often handled her roughly, one (a particularly neckless fellow named Curtis King, who possessed the brainpower of a troll) even going so far as to knocking her off her broom. A broken ankle later, he was barred from Quidditch for life and was given three months of detention. (Lines! He would hate that. Conny didn't think he could write.)

"You're such a bore!" Lucy appeared above her, handing upside-down on her broom, speeding around as though she hardly concentrated on it. Corfax's broom was struggling with his weight and refusing to go higher than about a metre off the ground. "Hey, betcha a galleon I can get Oscar and Wilkins to knock each other off their brooms."

"What? Don't you dare, Hooch will have your head."

"Nah." Lucy grinned. "She wouldn't. She used to be in Ravenclaw, too. She says I'm prime chaser material."

"You'll make a better chaser if you don't get yourself killed by all the Hufflepuff first-years first." Conny eyed the two boys up. They were classic beater material: thick, in every sense of the word. She compared them to Lucy, who was barely five foot and stick-thin (she had to battle against the wind when she walked outside, for god's sake!), and reckoned quite sensibly that she stood no chance. Then, she realized how boring she was. "I tell you what, I think I'll join you while Hooch is trying to get Corfax's broom to work."

"Yes!" Lucy fist-pumped triumphantly. "We'll lap them, then approach either side. You know how to hook a broom?"

"Hook?"

"Yeh, it's one of the best-known methods of cheating in Quidditch. You come up behind someone and, when they're turning, you hook your closest leg around the back of their broom. It totally floors them." Lucy grinned and returned to normal flying position. "Ready?"

"Which am I taking?"

"You're bigger than me, so you can have Wilkins." Lucy said.

"Right." Conny smiled and she and Lucy caught up to the two boys, who were pushing Jonmarc out of the way as they sped forward. Wilkins saw her out of the corner of his eye and veered away- straight into Oscar. They hit and just managed to hold onto their brooms. Lucy signaled _now! _And Conny hooked her foot under Wilkins' broom and sent him flying downwards- fortunately, they were flying low anyway, but it was still a good fifteen feet, even if the grass was squishy.

She gave Lucy a high-five and they zoomed on. "You're not a bad flier, you know. A bit of practice, and you'd make a good keeper."

"Keeper? That's like, a goalie in football, right?"

"Uh… sure." Lucy said. "Next year, you'll try out with me, yeh?"

"If you want." Conny shrugged. "I think my Dad's still got his old brooms somewhere."

They touched down twenty minutes later, out of breath and frozen to their bones. Hooch told them to warm up before dinner and began lecturing Oscar and Wilkins on their behavior. Corfax stumbled off, humiliated, and wasn't in the Great Hall.

"Maybe this'll get him on a diet." Lucy said through an ironic mouthful of pizza. They laughed at the joke, but Conny still felt bad at how people treated him. She herself wasn't skinny like Lucy or Polly, but not as bad as Corfax. She spent the evening avoiding food and trying to not feel too guilty.

Rosie McAvery came over and plonked herself down at the Ravenclaw table. Students sitting at other Houses' tables were not uncommon, so they budged up to make room for her. She was from Edinburgh, and spoke with a strong Scottish accent, but everyone liked her because she was funny and smart. Ravenclaw had a thing for brains; usually, Gryffindors tended to be more brawny, but there were exceptions, and these exceptions were welcomed to the Blue and Bronze house any time. Conny did sometimes get jealous of Rosie, though; she often stole Lucy's attention away, and though Conny had come to accept that Lucy's allegiances and favour constantly shifted, she'd thought herself nearer the top of the list. She knew about Lucy's brothers, for a start- that should make her important, right?

'…But Conny's really good at it too- even better, I'd say. Right, Con?"

She snapped out of her thoughts and grumbled a response.

"Is anyone going to the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match on Thursday?" Rebecca Dannat asked, setting her cutlery down. "I think we should. We haven't been great at supporting Quidditch this year."

"That's because we've been busy dueling." Polly replied logically. "But we probably ought to anyway. Only Conny and Lucy went through to the next round."

"It was more luck for me than skill." Conny mumbled, her hands clenching as the memory of water filling her lungs erupted in her mind again. "I won't be able to win again."

"Nah! Yeh're frikking amazing at Diligence!" Rosie said in her thick brogue. "Saw ye in Defence class- yeh'll easily beat the wee folk from Slytherin and Hufflepuff. Oh, aye, ye may have some trouble with our Bill- but he's just an all-around genius."

"I hope I don't go up against Rissa." Conny said. "She's bloody lethal."

"Damn right." Lucy shared a look with her. "That's the thing- when is the next round?"

"Two weeks next Friday." Jonmarc piped up, despite being quiet and moody as usual. He'd been a right misery since losing to Bill; the girls though it was him being sensitive, so they invited him along to all their various activities now. He'd been made an honourary girl, which probably made him angrier and surlier than losing in the first place, but he put up with it.

"Ugh, I am so behind on jinxes. My shield charm makes me grow a beard instead, I have no idea what I'm doing wrong." Conny admitted. "We're just not wired to do such advanced magic."

"A shield charm is _hardly _advanced." She heard Ralphus drawl from further down the table. "I was doing them before I learned to walk."

"That's nice." Rosie said absently. Ralphus looked her up and down, noticing the Gryffindor badge.

"Want to go back and sit with the other idiots?" He said.

"Nay, not really."

He seemed taken back by her deliberately effusive answers. "Can anybody else understand what she's saying?"

They saw it for the pathetic quip it was and ignored him. He'd been a right bastard after being beaten in the Dueling Competition, and to make things worse, people kept walking past him and squirting him with little jets of water, just to remind him what a horrible person he was.

Conny was reminded of all this as she slunk past a damp tapestry, where Polly had taken the liberty of dampening him earlier that day. It was dark, and late, and she was tired, but she really hated sleeping. She sighed and saw Bach curled up on an armchair in the Hufflepuff Commons. She was all the way on the ground floor; it would take ages to get upstairs now. She'd hardly get any sleep, since she'd be up as soon as the drowning came again. It was starting to affect her studies.

She began trudging upstairs with Bach nestled in her arms, and, she supposed, her tiredness was why she was much less cautious than usual, and failed to notice the soft tap-tap of shoes behind her until it was too late.

"Miss DeHayersae." The cold, semi-amused voice of Professor Snape said slowly. Conny wheeled around, her heart hammering in her chest. She's been caught. Now she'd have to do a billion detentions or an essay or something.

"Professor Snape." She sighed, tired, not caring how cheeky she was being.

"That is my name." He raised a dark eyebrow. "Now, why would a first-year such as yourself be wandering around quite so late?"

"Couldn't sleep." She said. "Don't want to sleep."

"Why on earth would that be?" Snape asked, his lip curling. "You are a child, Miss DeHayersae, and children, by definition, are lazy, and enjoy sleeping."

Her face burned. She thought… it was better to be honest. Maybe he could do something about it. He was the Potions Master, after all. "I get… bad dreams, sir. Of drowning, like I did at Hallowe'en. Then I wake up, and I fear going back to sleep again."

She could have sworn his face softened slightly. "That is… I empathize, Miss DeHayersae. I am sure there is something I could offer you to remedy this affliction."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. I offer the Draught of Peace to students who are upset and anxious. If prepared in its concentrated form, it will send the imbiber into a deep, dreamless sleep."

Brilliant, Conny thought happily- a solution for all my problems! If I'm sleeping, I can perform better in class… get better at dueling… and have a better life.

"I shall send some by owl tomorrow at breakfast." Snape said. "And fifty points from Ravenclaw for being out of bed so very late."

Appalled, she was about to say something back when Bach launched out of her arms, straight at Snape's face.

It was like something out of the muggle movies that Conny's mum had taken her to see when she was little: almost in slow motion. Bach leapt, claws outstretched, and collided with Snape like a furry cannonball. He raked his rather sharp claws down the Potions Master's face, leaving deep gouges down his cheeks. Snape roared with indignation and grabbed Bach by the scruff of his neck, chucking him across the hall and into a suit of armour, which swore loudly at him. With a flourish and a swish of his cloak, Snape turned around as stormed off, leaving a trail of blood behind him. Conny stood, dumbfounded, as Bach extracted himself from the helmet of the suit of armour, yowling loud enough to wake the whole bloody castle.

"You little legend, you." Conny picked him up and cuddled him close. "I think you just got me in a hell of a lot of trouble, Bachy."

He just purred in a gloating fashion and started to lick to blood of his claws. Conny carried him upstairs, back to the Ravenclaw tower, and managed to clean herself up as sunrise approached. Her reflection was not a pretty sight; she had bags under the bags under her eyes. Her hair needed a wash, but she was afraid to get into the shower. It had all seemed okay, when she was home and her parents were there for her, but now she was back… it was all frightening again. She didn't like it. She felt weak and flawed next to the older, more popular students.

Some notes on namings and inspiration for names:

Conny DeHayersae:- I've actually lifted this name straight out of another fic I wrote. I'm so unoriginal like that… sorry. The name just seemed to fit the character. Conny's full name, Conyeri, I made up myself. It is a perversion of the name 'Constance', which I LOVE. DeHayersae, I kinda forget where it came from.

Lucy Ra:- Lucy's name is a bit more interesting. Her first name, Lucelia, is the long version of the name Lucy that a girl in my primary school used to have… I thought it was really pretty so I chose it. Now, Ra, sounding ostentatiously Egyptian, is actually… well, I read Dracula, and anyone who'd read it knows that there is a character called Lucy Westenra. So I just got rid of the 'Westen' and was left with the 'Ra'. The nationality and stuff came along after.

Jonmarc Lucwitt:- I made up Jonmarc because it sounded French. I did French GCSE (I actually, somehow, got a A*, which is funny if you know my accent) and I just liked the idea of different nationalities being represented. So 'Jonmarc' is just a contraction of one spelling of 'John' (Jon) and 'Mark', franglicized to Marc, to make Jonmarc. I wanted Jon's surname to be able to be said in a French accent (where it is pronounced 'Looc-weet'), an American accent (where it is 'Lah-quit') and an English accent (in which it is 'Le-quit).

So there you have it. I'll explain some other characters, items and locations later on :)


	13. Chapter 12

Here's another chappie. Hope for some reviews any day now. The HP part of the sit is really hard to break into unless you do really popular couplings -.-

Chapter Twelve: Eosir's Constant

Sighing, Conny quickly washed her hair in a basin and tried to make herself look acceptable. She daubed on Madam Meticulous's Complete Cover Concealer like it was war-paint, brushed her hair into a neat plait, clipped her fingernails and finally put on a freshly-laundered uniform. She looked just about adequate, but still… haggard. She needed sleep. And a good, long, hot bath, but she couldn't face one of those right now.

"Morning." She yawned as Basil Fronsac waved at her. The Common Room at five in the morning was obviously deserted, so she lit the fires and aired the cushions, thinking to do something helpful. The starry ceiling helped her finish her astronomy chart, which she'd been putting off for several days. Who cared if Pluto was coming into its eighth orbital phase, making the properties of monkshood more powerful during the early evening? She certainly hadn't met anyone who had, except Professor Sinistra. Conny couldn't see what the boys saw in her- sure, she was beautiful, but she worked them into the ground. The sky was too damn big.

"You've mislabeled that orbit," Fronsac observed, "It should be the fifth Eulian polycycle, not the third."

"Thanks." She grumbled, thankful she'd brought erasable ink back with her from home. "I thought you didn't help students with their prep?"

"I try not to make a habit of it." He smiled. "Though you obviously need my help, my dear. You've been up these past three nights before the sun rises. It can't be good for your health."

"Probably." Conny shrugged. "Sir, why is life never easy?"

"A little young for pessimistic philosophy." Basil chuckled.

"It's not pessimistic, it's true. I just want everything to be normal." She said.

"No, you do not." He insisted. "You are experiencing what any bright young girl experiences: fear. You are afraid of failing, of not living up to your own standards. Many people who set high standards for themselves find it impossible to reach them, and become disheartened."

"I, myself." He said quietly, taking off his pointed hat. "It was my fourth year here. I felt that I was not achieving what I should… that I would never become as great as I wished to be. Earlier during my life I was the victim of a badly-performed Loquacio Charm, and I feared that my secrets would continue to slip out when I was with others. However… I did not back down. I faced my fear. Actually, I had help from a lovely girl who later became my wife."

"Really?" Conny asked.

"Yes." Basil smiled softly. "And I became Headmaster of Hogwarts. You have a great future ahead of you, Miss DeHayersae."

"Conny." She said, correcting him.

"If I am to call you Conny, then you should call me Basil."

"But you're a professor! And a headmaster, too!"

"I once was. Now, I'm just a painting of an old man with nobody to talk to." He said sadly, toying with his hat.

"Oh, don't feel like that!" Conny ran over to his painting and gripped the frame. "You're absolutely lovely, sir."

"Basil." He corrected, smiling.

"You're absolutely lovely, Basil."

"Much better." The headmaster sighed and closed his eyes. "Now, I shall take a nap before you all begin to wake up, I think." He paused, and she thought he'd gone to sleep when he started to speak again. "Oh, and Conny?"

"Yes?"

"There's a boy waiting in the Commons with a cup of cocoa and a phial of Rescue Remedy for you."

"What?" She asked, but he was already snoring lightly. Cursing him, she left the tower, much to the annoyance of Charlie, who was still sleeping, and padded down to the Commons, her brow furrowed.

"Conyeri." Corfax said earnestly, looking quite shocked to see her. "…Hullo."

"Morning." She said, equally as awkwardly.

"I thought… you're not looking well, and I thought you might not have been sleeping… so I came here."

"But you couldn't get into the Tower."

"I didn't understand the question." He admitted. "But I brought self-heating cocoa and a muggle cure for stress."

She smiled and motioned for them to sit in two squashy blue chairs by a low coffee table. "You're too nice, you know. Lucy is foul to you."

"I was used to it. I went to a muggle primary school- _they're_ foul. At least here, you've got so much to do that you hardly realize the bad things."

She privately thought that it would be very nice to be that oblivious. He set down two slightly chipped cups and they slowly filled with dark brown liquid, which began to heat and steam, and even topped itself with whipped cream and marshmallows. She drank greedily- it was made with Honeydukes' best chocolate, which made you feel happy and warm and optimistic. She and Corfax sat in silence for a while, drinking slowly, and he dropped a few beads of the strange muggle potion in her cocoa, insisting that she drink it. Conny looked at the back of the small bottle.

"Star of Bethlehem? Don't we use that in poisons?"

"Only some of the plants in the genus are poisonous." Corfax said knowledgeably. "Don't worry, I'm not trying to off you."

"Yet."

He chuckled. "Are you okay, Conny?"

She paused. "I'm… I'm feeling a bit better now." She said.

"Okay. Because I don't want you to drop a grade, or be unhappy, or anything." He said quietly.

"…Thank you. It's nice that somebody cares." She touched his hand affectionately, emotion swelling in her chest. Only he had approached her, had offered her help (Basil didn't count, he was a painting), and she felt a real, genuine gratitude towards him. She'd often thought him annoying or inane, and hadn't liked him upon their first meeting, but she decided that Corfax was okay after all. She was almost tempted to give him a hug, but Conny wasn't frivolous with her touches, unlike girls like Lucy, who seemed to possess the strangest desire to touch everything and everyone they came across in as many places for as long as possible.

"That's… good." He said sheepishly, a moustache of whipped cream on his upper lip. "I'm glad you're better. I thought you might be ill like Clarissa, since you two are together a lot."

Conny frowned. "What's wrong with Rissa?"

"Dunno. I saw her in the Hospital Wing earlier when I was getting a check-up because I had Dragon Pox over the holidays, and I saw her in one of the beds. She looked pretty bad."

"I'd no idea…" Conny muttered. "Thanks, though. I'll go down after DADA and see if she's okay."

"You can borrow one of these, if you like." He gestured towards her now empty mug. "The charm lasts for ages. I'm sure she could do with a hot chocolate."

"I will, thanks." She fiddled with the mug as it cleaned itself, marveling at the spellwork. She and Corfax talked a bit about lessons- he wasn't very bright, but he was fascinated by Transfiguration. He didn't do very well, but not as badly as his other subjects. McGonagall even half-liked him, which coming from the severe Scottish witch was a great achievement. They got discussing the paper, which they often did- both had an interest in current affairs, the big stories at the most featured the rounding up and capture of the renegade Death Eaters.

"My money's on the kiss." Corfax said, looking at a moving picture of Bellatrix Lestrange in that morning's copy of the prophet (somehow his owl had managed to find him up in the Ravenclaw Commons). "She's… eerily beautiful, isn't she?"

Conny agreed. The woman had frightfully pale skin and thick, dark hair, with an angular face that screamed control from every pore. "She won't look like that for long, though. Azkaban isn't… good for one's health."

"True." He agreed.

"Can I borrow the cryptic crossword?" Conny asked. Corfax nodded and ripped the whole puzzle page out for her. "Thanks. Maybe one day I'll win something."

"Unlikely. You know how many people read the Prophet?"

"Don't rain on my parade." She pouted, hearing the first stirrings of life up in the tower. "Eesh. How long has it been?"

"Like, an hour." He checked his watch. "Hell, I was meant to do Binns' 1724 Marseilles Accord essay!"

"You can borrow mine and re-word it over breakfast if you like." Conny said, kindly. "I'll just go up and grab it, along with my books for the day."

She nipped into her dorm and took out her school bag, rummaging around for a while, trying to find that horrible essay. She eventually discovered it wedged underneath a large box full of spare ink and Polly's stack of _Teen Witch Weekly _magazines. Bach snoozed on her pillow, oblivious to the trouble he'd caused. Conny grabbed her stuff and quietly walked out again, not wanting to disturb her still-sleeping roommates. She and Corfax made their way down to the Great Hall for a very early breakfast: in fact, they were there early enough to see a few house-elves scuttle down to the kitchens after wiping down the house tables and sweeping the floor. They both sat at the Ravenclaw table and Conny tried to complete the cryptic crossword while Corfax copied out her essay in his own words. It was not like Binns was astute enough to tell that they'd copied, anyway. What use was a ghost teacher?

Food appeared violently and seven-thirty on the dot. A platter of croissants mushroomed up underneath Conny's copy of _Common Cryptograms _and she groaned, thinking that it would take ages to get butter off the cover. She took food eagerly while it was still steaming, feeling better than she had since Christmas. Everything seemed clearer and sharper, like she'd just got glasses. After two pain au chocolates, a bacon and egg bagel, two shots of expresso and several breathmints, she felt thouroughly invigorated.

"Four down, nineteen letters- Several folds, below sea level- around the cape." She said aloud when Corfax stopped the furious scratching of his quill, dotting his I's and crossing his T's. "Any idea?"

"Crumple-Horned Snorkack." He said absently, proofreading the document. "I couldn't read your writing here- did it say that here were twelve goblin chiefs at the Accord, or thirteen?"

"That's a seven." She said.

"Oh." He quickly corrected it. "You have the most illegible handwriting I've ever seen, and I grew up with _muggles_."

"If the professors can read it, so can you." She said, buried in another croissant. "Besides, Binns isn't actually going to read it. He'll give everyone seventy-three percent, like he always does."

"Doesn't hurt to be cautious." Corfax said.

"True, but it hurts to be boring."

"Shut up!"

"No, you shut up." They stuck their tongues out at each other and laughed at how childish they felt. "I'll be a teenager this year." Conny said, stuck by the thought.

"Not until December." He said. "You should have told me when your birthday was, I would have sent something."

"It's fine. I have enough family over; I'd drown in presents if I had friends sending them over as well."

"Whatever you say." He shrugged. "Oh- Seg!"

Corfax's massive tawny owl came hurtling through one of the high, open windows in the Great Hall, soaking wet. Apparently it was raining outside, but the enchanted ceiling had been stuck on rainbows and hail ever since a stray spell from a seventh-year had messed it up in the first round of the dueling. She swooped down to their table and shook herself violently, getting water all over them. She handed Corfax a small package.

"Thanks, girl!" He scratched her neck affectionately. "Go rest in the Owlery, you deserve it after flying in such bad weather."

Seg hooted and tenderly nipped his fingers before soaring off again. "Whatcha get?" Conny asked.

"Well, it's from my Dad. I only just taught him to use owl post over Christmas." Corfax said eagerly, opening the damp package, but first reading the letter. "It reads: '_Dear Fax'_-" he blushed, "-that's his pet name for me."

"I'm not judging." She smiled. "Go on."

"Fine. It says: '_I was looking through an antique shop the other day when I spotted these, and thought: what a good idea for a young boy! I was, however, surprised when they began to squirt something like pus in my face as I tried to take them out of their pouch! I have asked your mother, who phoned her second cousin- the, ah, magical person, who says they are called gobstones, and they are a popular magical-person game, like marbles. The antique dealer wanted rid of them, so I bought them and sent them to you. I hope you like them! Mum and myself are doing well- hopefully I'll get the job with Danielson, he said the interview went well. Hoping you're well and that no crazy dragons or mermaids have killed you yet! Love, Dad.' _I still don't think he understands this magic lark."

Conny chuckled. Their eyes turned to the dusty, dark-blue satin pouch that clacked ominously. "He sent you a set of gobstones? That's cool. I'm decent, myself, but I haven't played in ages."

"They're like marbles, right?" Corfax gingerly undid the silver drawstring tying the pouch together and opened it up.

"Uh, yes. But marbles are slightly smaller, and they don't squirt at you." Conny said, peering into the pouch. "Oh- wow! Those are amazing!"

"Huh?" He reached in and grabbed a couple, pulling them out and settling them down on his empty plate. They were about an inch in diameter and perfectly spherical. One of the ones that Corfax had been given was a perfect Solar System in a ball; the other held a real rainbow. Others had misty plumes of different colours swirling about inside them. They were amazingly beautiful.

Until a small hole appeared in the top of one and squirted a sticky, foul-smelling liquid all over Conny's tie.

"Ugh!" She groaned, looking at it. She quickly took it off and, glowering at the offending gobstone, which contained an exceptionally detailed, three-dimensional and apparently animate figurine of a female goblin (who knew there were any?), and quickly pointed her wand at her tie, mumbling '_evanesco!_'

"Ew." She frowned, re-doing her tie. "But seriously, Corfax, have you got a lock-box for your things? Those Gobstones are seriously valuable."

"Really?"

"Yes. Go to one of the Gobstones Club's meetings, and you'll see just how much better those are."

"Wow." He looked at them again. "My dad isn't really good with magical things, but he always gets me stuff anyway."

"Brilliant- can I have a broomstick, then?"

Corfax laughed jovially. "Knowing him, he'd probably send an actual muggle broom."

Somebody clattered down next to them. "What's this about buying broomsticks?"

They turned to see Rosie McAvery plonk a great pile of schoolbooks down on top of a stack of pancakes. "Corfax's dad sent him some crazy Gobstones from a muggle antique shop."

"Aye? Give us a wee look!"

They ooh'd and ahh'd over them, rambling about some of the Scottish ones. "Me dad's got one with the northern lights in it. Beautiful."

"Really?" Conny got talking to the friendly Gryffindor about her father's gobstone collection while Corfax finished proofreading his essay. "I've heard they're using them at the nationals this year!"

"Aye- I dinee tell ye me dad used to be the Scottish Gobstones champion?" She asked.

"No, you didn't." Conny said, awed. "Does he still play?"

"No, he does the Magical Maintenance for Scotland now. His office is in Glasgow- they're always so miserable there, so that's why it rains a load up here."

"Makes sense." Conny agreed. "Hey, I just realised- we need a Slytherin, and we'll be a mélange of house unity!"

"A what-now? Ye Ravenclaws and yeh're long words, I cannee understand 'em."

"Never mind." Conny rubbed her neck, feeling as though she was forgetting something. "Oh- Rissa!"

"What's wrong with yeh're wrist?"

She glared at Rosie. "Nothing- I just remembered that Rissa Mothley is ill, and I want to go see her. Will you watch my books for a sec?"

"Aye."

"Brilliant- fell free to copy the History of Magic essay."

Rosie made a face that conveyed quite obviously that she'd forgotten entirely that they had an essay to do in the first place before nodding and giving her a thumbs-up. Conny walked briskly over to the Hospital Wing, the memory of caterpillars accosting her mind as she smelled the familiar mixture of antiseptic, clean linen and herbs that pervaded everything in there.

Madam Pomfrey wasn't down from her quarters yet, which meant that the lights were out. Conny summoned a weak ball of light using _lumos _and walked quietly down the length of the room, looking for Rissa's name at the end of a bed. She found her at the end of the left row of beds, with curtains drawn, but slipped around them. To her surprise, Rissa was already up, reading a copy of _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy _by wandlight.

"Good morning." She said vaguely, flicking the page.

"Corfax told me you were ill." Conny said in a whisper, settling in the wooden chair next to her bed. "I came to see you."

"I am fine."

"You're in the hospital wing, Rissa, you're hardly fine."

The Slytherin sniffed and rubbed her eyes. Conny held her wand closer to her face. She looked only half-present, her eyes far away. "Rissa?"

"That is a contraction of my given name."

"I love you too." Conny groaned at the aristocratic girl's less than effusive behaviour. "What's wrong?"

Rissa froze for a second and seemed to judder. She sneezed violently into chapter seven: The rise of the Irish Houses, then fell back on her pillow, breathing deeply. "Quidditch."

"…What about it?"

"What's the next game?"

"Uh… Gryffindor-Hufflepuff, I think?" Conny answered hesitantly.

"Oh… shame, when is the final?"

"Last weekend in May, I think?"

"Ah. Will everyone be there?"

"…Rissa, are you okay?"

"Answer the question." She replied. Her sentences kept trailing off, and snot was running from her nose. She was breathing sort of… stolidly, but like there was a cauldron on her chest. Conny tried to reach out a hand to feel her forehead, to see if she was feverish or not, but she lifted a lazy hand to swat Conny's away.

"Well, I suppose… yes, Lucy said that most everyone turns up."

Oddly enough, Rissa seemed to smile and nod, before, inexplicably, sneezing again and passing out.

Dumbfounded, Conyeri shuffled closer to her and felt her forehead. She had a high fever, and sweat beading on her brow. This would all be contiguous to the flu, or something equally as normal, but… well, Conny was inclined to make things more important than they really were.

She noticed something on the bedside table. It was a thick glass vial stoppered by a hinged pewter snake. It was about half-full of a clear, light-blue potion. Curious, Conny picked it up and opened it, sniffing inside. It smelled strongly of ambient grass, linen, candles and… sleep, she thought. The potion smelled of sleep.

Perhaps this had been what Snape had mentioned last night? The Draught of Peace he gave to students who weren't sleeping properly? It was possible. If Rissa was ill and feverish, it logically followed that she'd be given some.

To settle her mind, she took one of the handy phials from the bedside table (for measuring out doses) and poured a small amount into it, stoppering it and placing it in one of the small, tube-shaped pockets on the inside of her robes that she'd only found out about the other week when Lucy had produced a liquorice wand from nowhere and revealed the useful array of pockets concealed in all Hogwarts robes.

That done, she guiltily replaced the snake-stoppered phial and, as an afterthought, closed _Nature's Nobility _for her, setting it on her bedside along with her wand. It was pretty- light wood, with the design of a curling dragon carved intricately into the handle. Conny thought it felt… volatile in her hand, like barely-contained emotions, like it was going to explode at any minute. She wondered how this reflected on what Lucy had told her about Rissa's change in personality.

She slunk out of the Hospital Wing, just missing Madam Pomfrey on the way through the door. Breakfast was in full flow by now: the school had gathered to munch their way through another excellent Hogwarts meal. Despite her hunger, Conny felt oddly sick. She sat down next to Rosie and Lucy- Corfax had gone back to the Hufflepuff table to talk to Marion Aster, who, she surmised, was one of his close friends.

"How is Rissa?" Lucy asked through a Danish pastry.

"She was… strange. Far away." Conny said quietly, not really wanting to share it with Rosie, who wasn't a friend of the Slytherins. "She was quite ill, though. I hope she gets better."

Lucy bit her lip and nodded, looking worried. "Same."

"Oh, Lucy- do you know what this is?" She pulled the potion from her robes. Lucy nodded, finishing her massive bite.

"It's the Draught of Peace. I gave you some… after the Dueling Competition. It helps bad dreams."

"Rissa had some with her."

"Was it in a vial stoppered with, like, a silver snake?"

"Yes- that's the one!"

Lucy frowned. "That's the same one she gave me to help you- I gave it back to her. So she's got more in it? D'you suppose she always keeps some in it?"

"That seems sensible."

Lucy's eyes widened, and a particularly nasty glob of half-chewed pastry fell out of her open mouth. She set her knife and fork down. "Stupid, stupid _arseholes_."

A prefect nearby cleared her throat pointedly the loudness of the cussword. Lucy grabbed Conny's wrist. "Rosie, we'll see you later."

The bewildered Gryffindor nodded and waved as Lucy stormed out of the Great Hall. Conny stumbled behind her. "Lucy, what on earth-?"

"We're going to the Owlery." The petite half-Egyptian girl snarled with unusual viciousness. "To send a letter to Mister and Missus _Stupid-shit _Mothley."

"Ah." Conny extricated her wrist and sped up to power-walk next to Lucy as they covered the distance to the West Tower with surprising speed. "And, uh, what would this letter contain?"

Lucy swung violently to the left, through a tapestry of King Canute that concealed a staircase to the fifth floor. Stomping up the stairs, she said, breathing heavily: "It would contain mostly swearwords, and lots of blots of ink and holes where I've drilled my quill into the parchment with anger."

"Anything else?"

"Not really. Oh, maybe a footnote asking them why they're _drugging their daughter to change her personality!_"

Lucy burst into the Owlery, causing several disturbed sleeping owls to fall startled off their perches. "Give me a quill and a shotgun."

"Lucy, you don't even know what a shotgun is."

"It's a muggle killing tube." She replied hotly. "Ali used to make a fortune smuggling them to… ah, some Irish people."

Conny was just about to say how deplorable this was when Gil Lockhart's owl Soffy fluttered in with bacon flopping from his beak. "Lucy, don't do anything rash."

Lucy growled like an animal at her. "Look, Conny, I don't expect you to understand- don't you see? She was too much trouble for the lazy old codgers, so they doped her up with the Draught of Peace to keep her placid. She'd had so much for so long that it's changed who she is!"

Conny looked dubiously at the inviting blue potion and shivered slightly. And she was going to take some of that. "Wait, Lucy- a rage letter isn't the way to go about this."

The enraged girl paused in the middle of pulling some parchment out of the silver scroll case that Khai had given her for Christmas. She eyed her friend suspiciously. "Then what is, O wise one?"

"Blackmail." Conny smiled. "From what I've heard, the Mothley family is rich and well connected. They could stand to lose a lot from people like Dumbledore or the Daily Prophet finding out that they drug their daughter."

Lucy was silent and still for a minute, before smiling slightly, the glint returning to her eyes. "Aren't I meant to be the criminal?"

"Shush, somebody will find out." Conny winked comically. "Send them a letter telling them what you know, and threaten to go to the papers with the story. I've got the evidence here." She held out the flask. Lucy nodded and smoothed out the parchment on a slab of rock near the door, which had suffered least from the rain of owl poo. She took time and care over the letter, writing nicely in her best handwriting and even grabbing a candle from her robes and sealing the envelope with her thumbprint. She gave it to Soffy.

"Take this to Manor Mothley in Somerset." She told the effeminate and spoiled owl, which clearly wanted to sleep, but did as asked nevertheless. Once that was done, Lucy and Conny jogged down from the Owlery and realized that they should have been in Transfiguration five minutes ago. "We're dead."

They rushed into the classroom, only to find that Professor McGonagall wasn't actually there. Grinning, they high-fived and sat down as though they'd always been there.

Ten minutes later, Professor Quirrell strode in, his mop-top of hair flying behind him. Quirrell, who taught Muggle Studies, which none of the first-years did yet, was not very busy because few people took his class, so he was often called on to do cover lessons. He was also considered quite attractive, for a member of staff, being around the same age as Professor Snape but not as… slimy. "Good morning. Professor McGonagall's first years, yes?"

"Yes, sir." Polly said quickly, grinning. She in particular had a crush on Quirrell.

"Ah, I'm afraid that my Transfiguration isn't up to much, but that's never stopped me before." He rolled up his sleeves and pulled several sheets of parchment out of McGonagall's desk. "She says that you're doing Eosir's Constant at the moment."

Everybody groaned. Eosir's Constant was the most boring law of magical physics to ever be discovered, period. It was one of the fundamental ideas behind summoning and conjuring. Quirrell wrote out the questions they should do on the board and said that they could go early if they worked hard.

Conyeri set to work. Her brain was filled with other things, really- Rissa and the Draught of Peace, their strange meeting in the hospital wing, and Professor Killory. Conny couldn't put her finger on why exactly she had a strange feeling about the professor, she just… did. She sighed and turned to the proper chapter of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, _immersing herself in the thrilling narrative.

_Practical use of ether hassofar been limited to the transport of essence (Ch. 4) and external necessaries (Ch. 6). However, the use of Eosir's Constant can be applied to vital matter. Inter- and Intra-ethereal dipoles are applied in the following equation…_

Conny wondered what Rissa had been like when Lucy knew her…

…_Substituting b for the Staford measure of personal magical attraction…_

Bill Weasley had been getting ingredients from Dogweed and Deathcap. The strange man she'd seen at the station- they had to do with potions…

…_Relative vital consistency is taken into account, coupled with the translation distance in prosechs (Pc)…_

Rissa had gotten ill. Rissa was taking potions…

_Conyeri DeHayersae is a smelly poo…_

It didn't all- "Wait a minute!" She reread the last line just as Lucy put the letters of the textbook back where they were meant to be. "Don't do that, Lucy!"

"It wasn't like you were really reading it." She replied. "You haven't even started the questions."

"I was just thinking."

"You? Thinking? _Really?_"

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit." Conny hissed back at her, fiddling around for her quill and dipping it in her bottle of ink. "Let's get this done, we need to talk in private."

"Okie dokie." Lucy grinned and went back to her work. Conny copied down the first question, _1) Define the term _constant _as used in 'Eosir's Constant'_.

She grumbled, stretched her hand, and then went to work in true Ravenclaw fashion.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen: Orville Kinch's Unfortunate Catch

It rained heavily for the next two weeks, meaning that every student with brain cells to rub together (which discounted most Hufflepuffs) stayed inside each break time, severely limiting the space that Lucy and Conny had to practice their dueling. The second round featured half the number of the first, and the competition was much stiffer. Not all first-years had signed up, so there were sixteen people in the next round, which meant eight pairs of duelists. Money was on Bill Weasley to win.

Conny still wasn't sleeping as much as she should, and was ignoring the vial of Draught of Peace that Snape had sent her in a small parcel the morning after the Rissa incident, but she usually managed a nap between one and four A.M. that helped her be a little fresher. She and Lucy had weaseled out of Basil that there was a room in which they could practice- the abandoned classroom on the nearby seventh floor. The door had been bricked up, but if you rubbed the back of your hand against the slightly off-colour brick in the bottom left corner, you could temporarily move through the wall. They took advantage of this inaccessible area to duel as ferociously and loudly as they dared, often taking great chunks out of the jumble of rotting desks and legless chairs that they'd stacked up in the corner.

They'd also analyzed their competition: the other fourteen first-years who'd gotten through, and what they remembered of how they dueled. They took it in turns to pretend to be the selected student and tried to emulate their style. Conny came up with several ways to combat those students who tried to attack quickly- like Rissa- by casting a sticking charm on your wand so you couldn't be disarmed in the first place, or by turning your back to the opponent to block their trajectory. This unfortunately meant taking a disarming spell to the back, which, oddly enough, created a perfectly star-shaped hole in the layer underneath your robes in the spot where it hit.

They had many opponents to learn- Rissa herself, Bill Weasley, Mark Aritt, a couple of Hufflepuff girls with absolutely _wicked _jumping jinxes, some surly Slytherins that weren't above maiming you, and then a jumble of the lucky, the talented and the downright dangerous. Each had their own distinct style to be examined, picked apart and countered. It was tiring work, but Ravenclaws were all about perfection, planning, and figuring things out the old-fashioned way. Knowledge, logic and perseverance were key.

By the time that the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match rolled up on the Thursday before the next round of dueling, Conny and Lucy were sleeping through breakfasts and napping at every possible opportunity to make up for lost sleep. They weren't going anywhere near potions after four more students had been sent to the hospital wing, all very weak with mysterious ailments. They weren't sure if Rissa was even well enough to duel, but she had turned up to a couple of lessons.

Everyone practically ran out of Charms on Thursday afternoon, leaving Fliwick despairingly holding their homework sheets. They grabbed their cloaks and, if they were supporting one of the sides, their flags or banners. Some sported binoculars- others were casting Optibonus charms on themselves to see better, and there was even one boy with a cool-looking pair of omnioculars. They filled up the stands, struggling to find places near the front. Conny took Lucy by the hand and used her enchanted boots to propel them all the way up to the Ravenclaw stand's tower before the others had managed the stairs, so they got an excellent place at the front, and also high up where the actions happened. They quietly celebrated with a warm, frothy butterbeer, since it was a miserable day. A thick layer of black cloud seemed to stretch over the whole school, with the ominous heartbeat of thunder not far away. Cold rain had started sweeping in from the north and was visible over the horizon. Luke and Ally sat down next to them and waved merrily, taking out their own supply of hot, filling slightly alcoholic butterscotch-esque drinks and sharing them out amongst their friends.

The school finished filing into the stands and the teachers settled in their special tower. The commentator, David James, an attractive fourth-year, cleared his throat and started.

"Welcome to this, the fourth match of the Hogwarts Quidditch season!" The crowd went wild with applause. "Presenting: Hufflepuff!"

A blur of yellow and black erupted from the far entrance tower. Captained by seventh-year heartthrob Morpheus Wainwright, the strong team contained spectacular chaser, fourth-year Gwenog Jones, and tiny second-year seeker Orville Kinch, who was so slim and short that in his yellow robe he looked a bit like a snitch himself.

"And introducing: Gryffindor!" David yelled. From the opposite entrance tower, Gryffindor zoomed out, sleek and dark in their crimson robes. "Young vice-captain Caspian Hungerton today replaces well-known seventh-year captain Douglas Ohsem, who is ill in the hospital wing!"

The players arranged themselves in a circle, hovering a metre from the grass around Madam Hooch. She oversaw Morpheus and Caspian shaking hand, the brought her whistle to her lips. "Clean game, teams." She warned them, before blasting out the starting whistle as the bludgers and snitch went up, followed by the thrown quaffle.

"They're off!" David yelled, "It's Hufflepuff in possession- Jones passes to Aster- I've got to say, that Amy's a pretty hot piece of chaser!"

McGonagall gave him a withering look. He cleared his throat and continued. "Aster to Monroe- back to Aster- and they're zooming towards the Gryffindor goalposts, keeper Caspian looking really on the ball today- and _oh! _A bludger hit by Gryffindor beater Dorcan Faust whacks straight into Monroe, sending him into the side of the spectator tower on the other side of the pitch! Are you guys okay?"

The Hufflepuffs in the tower gave a loud cheer and two thumbs up each. "That's good- no harm done to the tower, but some perhaps to poor Bradley Monroe- and it's Gryffindor in possession now: Teressie- Exmith- Boltzmann- Hufflepuff keeper Shang Rihong lunges for the shot… and misses! Gryffindor score!"

A loud 'ding' announced ten points to Gryffindor and play continued, almost impossibly fast, tragically difficult to follow, and soon Conny was feeling quite ill, trying to follow the red and yellow blurs.

Gryffindor scored twice more in quick succession, but their standby seeker Riall Twining was pretty useless, pottering around on his broom wide-eyed at the quality of play. Lucy was explaining the rules and Conny found out that if the seeker caught the snitch it was worth a hundred and fifty points to his team, and the match ended. So Gryffindor would have to score with the quaffle a sixteen times to win if Hufflepuff just caught the snitch once.

Orville Kinch was zooming around, following the temperamental snitch at a distance, seeing that his counterpart wasn't going to be catching it any time soon. He knew that the crowds had come to see a good Quidditch match, not one where he caught the snitch two minutes in, so he was pausing, confident in his victory.

"It's Gryffindor beater Michael Dinns who inexplicably has the quaffle- what's he going to do with it? Jones is there, approaching fast, hands outstretched- and Teressie has borrowed his own beater's bat and hit a bludger towards her- Jones jumps in midair and the bludger goes through her legs! What a move!"

"Jones! Jones!" The crowd chanted as Gwenog gave them a shaky wave, grabbing the quaffle from Dinns and weaving through the rest of the players towards the goal. She feigned the middle hoop, and shot the quaffle down into the left one, scoring for Hufflepuff.

Conny began to enjoy the game after a while, chatting with Luke and Ally, and learning more about Quidditch.

"I still say you'll make a good keeper." Lucy commented after Caspian Hungerton managed to kick the quaffle away from his far hoop. "You've got the balance and the reach."

"Me, balance?" Conny asked, eyebrows raised. "I trip over the rug in our dorm _every _morning."

"Balance in the air is different to on the ground." Lucy said. "Hush, trust my judgment."

"Because your judgment is famously good."

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of…"

Conny hit her over the head with her empty glass of butterbeer. "Look- something's going on."

Indeed something was. Riall Twining and Orville Kinch were speeding towards the base of the Hufflepuff goalposts, having seen the snitch.

"And both seekers have seen the coveted golden snitch!" David yelled as people craned their necks to see. "Neck and neck- Twining slightly behind… Kinch slows- that's the problems with those new Cleansweeps- they're so close, and-!"

Both seekers collided at the base of the goalpost, knocking against each other her falling a couple of metres down onto the floor. Twining grasped for his broom and just caught it. He yelped, shaking his leg with a wild look on his face. Below, Orville grinned and jumped up- and pulled the poor seeker's trousers down!

"Hufflepuff seeker Orville Kinch has just forcibly removed the trousers of his counterpart Riall Twining- but what's this? Merlin! The snitch is caught in his boxer shorts!"

By now everyone was laughing and pointing. Twining was still clinging to his broom, red in the face, with Kinch on the ground just under him. Kinch sighed, looked around and shrugged at the crowd before shoving his hand into Twining's penguin boxer shorts.

A great howl rose as, presumably, he caught the wrong ball.

Twining yelped and fell off his broom for good, landing on top of Kinch, who still had his hand god knows where. They ended up in a heap and Madam Hooch blew her whistle furiously, zooming over to help.

She offered Twining her arm and he stood, shaking, and the rather squashed Orville Kinch sat up, looking embarrassed but very pleased with himself. In his hand, he held Twining's boxers, and inside them, the golden snitch.

One of the Gryffindor reserves flew out from their tower with a towel that Twining could put around his naked lower half as Madam Hooch pronounced the match ended, with Hufflepuff winning a hundred and eighty points to Gryffindor's forty.

"And what a match! This'll be talked about for a while, don't you think?" David snickered. "Though I pity Twining and his- ah- not-so golden snitches!"

McGonagall pointed her wand at him and he continued to talk, but no noise came out of his mouth. Everybody cheered and the Hufflepuff team congratulated their seeker on a ball well caught.

"That was brilliant!" Lucy said as they walked back up to the castle. "Poor Twining, though- nobody will ever look at him the same way again!"

"I think I pity Kinch more." Ally, who was walking beside them with Luke, said, rolling her eyes. "That must have been a particularly unpleasant experience for him."

"What, accidentally yanking another guy's ba-"

"First-years, Luke!" She mentioned, glowering at her boyfriend. "Anyway, an excellent match. We should celebrate."

"But… it wasn't even our House playing." Conny said.

"And? When have we ever turned down the chance to celebrate?" Luke grinned. "I'll ask Boris to get a couple of kegs in."

Ally pulled him away from their delicate ears at that point. Conny had only known of two parties that had gone on in their Common Room so far: one a couple of evenings before Christmas, and the other had been an informal Valentine's Day event. At both, the part had lasted well into the next morning and there had been no shortage of alcohol. She's even peeked her head out of the girls' dorms and seen several… unexpected couples forming, one of which had involved three sixth-year boys. At the same time.

Such an event happened tonight, after dinner- as usual, fourth-years and below were banished to their dorms by prefects and send to bed early so that the Common Room could be cleared of tables and chairs. Conny sat in the dressing room that acted as an ante-chamber to the girls doors trying to do her Transfiguration homework, but kept worrying about the dueling tomorrow. She'd fluked out the first time- all of the students in the second round were way better than her. The pounding music coming from downstairs didn't help her concentration either.

Rebecca Dannat, who was also trying to do homework, growled and set her quill down. "I don't see how we can work with all that music going on."

"We won't be complaining when we're old enough to actually be down there." Conny said sagely, checking that she'd copied an equation out right. "And besides, you like Wizard Nation. They're your favourite band."

"How d'you know that?"

"You have eighteen posters of the band around your bed."

"Oh… I suppose that gives it away, doesn't it?" Rebecca smiled. "I don't like this song, though. Their new album is better."

"The one that comes on the silver-blue vinyl?"

"Yeh- _Ministry of Mayhem_. It's so good since they replaced Kelvin McDugh."

"Didn't he get sent to prison for drugs?" Conny remembered reading about it the Prophet last year. "Wasn't it like, he had an armchair made solely out of knox."

"And opium poppies growing in his windowboxes." Rebecca mentioned. "Knox is so bad for you, it's a wonder why anyone would use it."

"Easy to get hold of, isn't it? It comes from knotgrass, and we have that in our potion kits."

"True." Rebecca came up behind her. "Have you done Sinistra's star-chart yet?"

"Yes, but I copied Tilda's. She's amazing at astronomy- shame she's so lazy at everything else."

"She's a Gryffindor, right? Rosie's friend?"

"Yep. We did a swap- she had my Potions essay, I got her star chart. It's- ah, here it is. I need it by Sunday if that's okay." Conny handed the detailed piece of parchment over to Rebecca, who took it thankfully.

"No problem. I think I'm going to go to bed early anyway- though I shan't sleep with all this noise."

"Good night." Conny waved her off, knowing she'd now have to search the whole dorm for her star chart because Rebecca would lose it. She scratched her head and continued her questions, her stomach doing flips. Experimentally, she closed her new copy of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ and took out one of her father's old books- _A Standard Book of Spells, Grade One_, and flipped through the pages, looking for something. She knew that her father had been one for dueling back in the stone age, so she assumed that he may have written some of his spells down. She was right. In one of the blank back pages, smudged and surrounded by notes such as _Prefect's Bathroom pass = 'Scientifica' _and _Mar 17 1961 _(She wondered as to the significance of this date), Conny found one word circled in red ink: _Cephalosortia._

Brilliant, Conny thought, writing the word on the back of her hand. Any spell of her father's was going to be good.

She closed the book and sat by herself, stroking the cover for a while. A calendar was pinned to the wall nearby (it featured mostly topless pictures of members of popular wizard metal band Bludger for my Valentine), and, to her horror, Conny noticed that Lucy's birthday was coming up- March 31st- and she didn't have a present!

Deciding that this was far more important than sleep (most things were more important than sleep to Conny at the moment), she nipped into her room and nabbed Polly Montgomery's copy of the _Consumer's Guide to Wizarding Wares, 1983 edition_. It was about a foot thick, but it had nice glossy pages and colourful pictures of pretty much everything that you could legally buy. She took it down into the dressing room, grabbed a beanbag from the corner and flicked through.

"My, who're you thinking of getting one of _those _for?" someone giggled, leaning over her shoulder. Conny jumped, startled- she'd been engrossed in a page of _Wizarding Wares _that was… how to put this delicately… somewhat blue.

The person in question was a rather drunk fifth-year girl Conny recognized but couldn't name. There were around seventy people in each House, and she'd never been good with names to begin with, so it wasn't unusual for her not to know someone.

"I… I was just looking." She stammered lamely at the girl, who grinned like a Cheshire cat at her spreading blush.

"Of course you were." The girl rolled her eyes and tussled Conny's hair affectionately. Her eyes, unfocused but a pretty shade of blue, widened, and she pointed to one of the items advertised. "Charlotte Stevenson has one of those. It's buried at the bottom of her trunk, but we snuck into her dorm last year and found it… gave us quite a scare!"

Conny blushed and turned the brochure on its head. "How would that even… surely anatomy wouldn't allow for something so…?"

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it!" She giggled. "I remember when I was a firstie… so sweet, you cute little girlies and boys…"

Conny huffed and gave her a withering look. She held up her hand in mock-defeat and went over to one of the small dressing tables that stood underneath the mirrors, fiddling about for a key in her pockets before opening one of the drawers and pulling a large bottle of firewhiskey out, followed by an ominous-looking black pouch that clacked as she moved it. She locked the drawer again and saw that Conny was looking.

"Shh." She held a finger to her mouth and winked. "Oh, don't look at me like that- we're Ravenclaws, honey, it's perfectly normal."

Conny vaguely remembered what Lucy had said about Ravenclaws and illicit substances and nodded meekly. "'Suppose."

"There's a good girl." She grinned and slipped out, back down into the party. Conny watched her go, wondering whether an abundance of intelligence led to a deficit of common sense amongst her House.


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen: Douglas' Close Call

Morning dawned cold and crisp on Friday. House-elves scurried around the Common Room, tidying up after the party that had occurred the night before. Conny let them, hovering by the entrance to the girls' dressing room so they could finish their jobs. She knew very little about House-Elves, but when she'd tried to help them tidy up early one morning- she was up anyway and hadn't slept, so it seemed only sensible- they'd reacted negatively. She figured that they enjoyed their work and felt a sense of purpose, so she left them alone.

Once they'd cleared up the last spilled drink and aired the room by way of the large stone mullion windows, she slipped down the stairs and lit herself a fire. She'd managed a nap, but she felt jumpy and grouchy, anticipating the next round of dueling that night.

"Cephalosortia." She mumbled under her breath, staring absently into the flames. "Cephalo_sortia_!"

That felt right. She smiled weakly and snoozed for a while, keeping away from the ever-present threat of drowning again by counting ticks of the old grandfather clock nearby. It was all briefly peaceful.

Since stopping sleeping, Conny thought, time passed more slowly. It was as though each second lingered a little past its prime, that every clock's hands were sluggish. Strangely, she came to the conclusion that if one could eliminate the need for sleep, one could effectively live twice as long.

Conyeri was not afraid of death, per se- she was twelve, her own mortality was not something that she dwelled upon often. She knew as well as anyone that He Who Must Not Be Named sought to live forever, and had been willing to go to any end to achieve that act- even murder. She didn't exactly know how killing people made you live longer, but she remembered it being drummed into her as a child that each man's time comes as it does: Never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee. John Donne, she remembered, had written that. Conny had always had a thing for poetry, perhaps beyond the simple rhyme and easy theme that she'd grown up with. Poems seemed… relevant.

This meditation finally brought her into a peaceful slumber. The threatening presence of the water loomed, but it didn't overwhelm her- she felt as though she was floating on top of it, gently lulled to and fro by the tidal flow. It was wonderful, but at the same time it set her on edge- knowing that just below her, circling, were torrents and currents that could pull her down to the depths, could grasp at her, pressing the air out of her lungs…

Conny woke again with a start as the clock chimed seven o'clock. She felt the calming pressure of a hand on her shoulder and the shadow falling across her face of a concerned head- Luke's concerned head, brow creased and eyes wide. "Conyeri?" He asked quietly.

"Y-yes?" She managed; pushing herself up in the armchair she'd been sitting in and wiping sweat from her brow. Luke sat down next to her.

"Are you okay?"

"Of course. I'm fine."

He frowned at her. "You're obviously not fine, honey. You were thrashing and shouting."

Conny bit her lip. Luke was a lovely guy, but… he was also older, and some silly part of her felt that he would make fun of her for being so… weak. There was only one word for it. She was weak. "Just… a bad dream."

"You haven't been taking the potion that Snape's been sending you weekly?" He asked. Conny's eyes widened.

"How do you know about that?"

"Slughorn used to prepare it for my friend Will when he was in his first year. He didn't like being away from his family, and he had night terrors and bed-wetting for a while before I finally went to Slughorn and asked for help. He's been fine since then." He said.

"I… I have a bad feeling about potions." She said, thinking back to what repeated use of the Draught of Peace had done to Rissa Mothley. And now she was ill- quite ill, as were other people, like Gryffindor seeker Doughlas Ohsem. And Conny would bet her last knut that it had to do with the man she'd seen in Hogsmeade. She just didn't know how.

"Well, if you don't take the potion, I can't really give you any help." He pointed out. "Maybe you could ask Madam Pomfrey for something else? If you're afraid to take potions, there might be a spell or something."

"That's a good idea, actually." She realized. "I think I'll go to the Library and check it out."

Luke smiled. "And, you know… even though Killory's pretty nasty sometimes, there's something useful with this Diligence stuff."

"Maybe." She said quietly. "But I can't use Diligence in my dreams."

"No." He agreed thoughtfully. "Just… pointing it out."

"Thank you." She gave him a hug. "I'm going to look for a dreamless sleep spell now."

"Have fun." He waved her off.

Conny had lied to him. She wasn't really going to the library to look at spells she couldn't do at this level anyway at all: she was going to the Hospital Wing, to check if her hypothesis was correct. In her mind, Rissa was taking potions regularly. Regular potions meant regular ingredients- and where was it more convenient for Professor Snape to buy ingredients from than the apothecary just over in Hogsmeade?

She theorized that for some reason, the dark man she'd seen was selling Hogwarts tainted potion ingredients, which made for tainted potions. And tainted potions, if taken in a high enough dosage, would be enough to make you really ill, like Rissa was.

The question was, why? Why make a couple of Hogwarts students ill? A petty revenge, or something… something worse? She bit her lip as she slid down t he rusty metal helter-skelter that went from behind the pillar with the fat man's head on it on the fifth floor way down to a secret chamber underneath an ornamental gryphon on the second. She rubbed the flakes of rust off her clean grey pleated school skirt and hurried onward (half a league! She thought, perhaps being slightly silly) down to the Hospital Wing. As usual, Madam Pomfrey wasn't in yet, and the lights were off and the curtains closed.

She padded down to Rissa's bed, fully expecting her to be awake again, but she wasn't. It was only when she was curled up under her covers, face blank of all emotion, that Rissa looked as she was- a twelve year-old girl. Or worse, a twelve year-old girl with parents so image conscious as to try turning her into somebody she wasn't.

But was it kinder? The thought was sour in Conny's mouth. She didn't know Rissa as Lucy had before Hogwarts, and couldn't see the change. Lucy had said that she'd been uncontrollable, angry, and destructive. So was curbing this behaviour through repeated use of the draught of peace actually helping Rissa control herself?

Was she happy with who she was?

These thoughts caused Conny to stop and think, her eyes drawn to the snake-stoppered vial gleaming in the low light on Rissa's bedside table. Who was she to decide, after all, how people chose to live their lives?

"Hey!" Someone groaned from behind her. Her heart jumped a mile into her throat and she whirled around, half-grasping for her wand. Conny let out a sign of relief. It was just the boy in the bed opposite Rissa's awake and having spotted her. She put her wand away and walked over.

"Hello." She said politely. He was a tall, athletically built boy, with closely-shaven black hair and thick eyebrows. He had bags under his eyes and a gaunt look about his face. A set of Gryffindor Quidditch robes were draped over the chair next to his bed- she took that to imply that he was seventh-year Gryffindor seeker, Douglas Ohsem.

He saw her looking at his robes. "Quidditch." He said, voice cracking half-way through the word. "Did we win?"

"I'm sorry… Orville Kinch from Hufflepuff caught the snitch before your seeker. Hufflepuff won."

He nodded, looking downcast. "That means we're out of the running for the cup, doesn't it."

"No."

He frowned and sighed into his bed. "If I hadn't been ill… we might've stood a chance."

Conny's Famous Five sense prickled. "How did you fall ill?"

"I dunno." He shrugged. "I was off training for a couple of weeks because of a back injury, and when I was well enough to play again, I just… became ill. Really weak, tired, and… fragile. I don't like it."

"When you hurt your back… did you have to take many potions?"

He snorted. "Of course I did. I wanted to be well as soon as possible, so I took everything they could give me."

He sneezed violently into his covers and took a deep, mucousy breath. "See?"

"Indeed." She mentally ticked a couple of boxes in her head. "Well, I hope you're well soo-"

His arm shot out and grabbed her wrist. He was at least twice as big as her, being a massive seventh-year and all. Conny yelped and struggled, but his grip was strong and his eyes were wild.

"_Hush._" He said in a faraway voice. "_Little girl… I suggest you stop placing your nose into other peoples' business._"

He squeezed her arm harder. "D-douglas? Are you okay?"

His eyes narrowed and he jerked her closer, until she could see the wild dilation of his pupils. "_You will be very sorry, girl. Do as I say. Leave. Think not about any of this._"

There was… frightened as she was, Conny saw something in his eyes. She expected a reflection of herself- her scared face, perhaps. There wasn't. There was someone else. She controlled her trembling body and reached out with her mind into that image, the face… not knowing what she was doing. Douglas writhed and the man in his eyes yelled something in surprise… she felt closer, and closer, until a room started forming. It was grey and stretched and streaked with blackness and nothingness, the fire in the hearth flickering with dark, tenebrous flames, but it was… somewhere. She could see frost on the windowpane… a view of the castle… the man, clutching his head, gritting his teeth, smashed glass littering the floor of the room. Conny pushed herself further into the room, and it became more real, more vivid, less… tattered. Colours began to bloom on the threadbare carpet- the sound of birds outside the window.

He regained his wits and fumbled for his wand, a long, thin black baton, and pointed it at… wherever she was.

"_Avada-"_

Conny took a breath and launched herself back out of the vision, just as a killing curse fizzled out of Douglas's eyes, close enough to singe her eyebrows. She flailed backwards and lost her balance, crashing into the curtains that partitioned the beds from one another.

"_Circe!_" she swore loudly, falling with a painful thud onto the floor. Scrambling up, Conny knew she had to flee before Pomfrey managed to get down from her apartments to check on the disturbance. Footsteps echoed down the stairs. Conny swore again and, with the stress of it all, accidentally transfigured herself into a bedside cabinet.

Madam Pomfrey switched the lights on, blustering about. She saw the curtain knocked over, and the bewildered but half-angry look on Douglas's face and lifted up her skirts in order to rush over. "Douglas, are you feeling all right?"

He blinked several times in quick succession and fell back on his pillows. Conny, experiencing first-hand what an unplanned and botched transfiguration felt like, found one of her eyes in a knothole in the wood of the cabinet and looked on, feeling very sick and oddly stiff. She knew that she'd transfigured herself- she'd done it several times by accident when she was younger and couldn't control her magic, but never to this degree. It had always been, like, a lobster arm or an extra nose, never full-body transformation into an inanimate object.

"Sorry, Madam Pomfrey." He said croakily. "I just felt a little… not myself, and I tripped over the curtain on my way back from the toilet."

"Oh, dear." She patted him on the shoulder. "I'll get you something and you can go back to sleep. How does that sound?"

"Wonderful." He said.

Pomfrey re-erected the curtain and much to Conny's terror, picked her up and placed her back against the wall. "I'll be back in two ticks of a centaur's tail, my dear."

Conny saw her chance and took it- Pomfrey would have the whole ward up now. She broke her transformation- badly- and made a run for the door, narrowly missing Pomfrey emerging from her office again. Feeling relieved by a little shaky, she skittered into an early breakfast and sat down next to Jonmarc so quickly that she slid a little along the bench at the Ravenclaw table.

"Conny," he said, surprised, "What is zat?"

"What is what?" She asked, tucking hair that had flown away behind her ears.

"Ze drawer in your chest."

She looked down, and there was indeed a wooden drawer with a handle protruding from her chest. Curious, she opened it and found a tattered romantic novel, two stubby pencils, a Bible and a copy of the Daily Prophet from December 1981. When she'd removed these items, the drawer returned to being flesh and she was relieved that no damage had been sustained to her grey school cardigan.

"Thanks for the tip, Jon." She said, helping herself to some toast. "What's up?"

"Not much." He shrugged. "Are you going 'ome for Easter?"

"I'm not sure. We've got a lot of work to do for summer, but I do miss home most terribly. And mum and dad said we could go on holiday somewhere- but only locally, because summer is the time for big holidays, don't you think?"

Almost as she said it, David's owl Beethoven swooped in through one of the open windows, letter tied neatly to one of his large talons. He landed smoothly, though almost knocked Jonmarc's chocolate milk over. Conny untied the letter and let Beethoven nibble her toast.

"I wish my parents owled more often." Jonmarc sighed, appraising the great owl beside him. "Paris to 'ere eez just too far, and it eez too expensive anyway."

She gave him a sideways hug while eagerly breaking the seal on the letter. She could tell that her dad had sent it from work- it was thick, good-quality parchment, and the purple wax was stamped with the insignia of Wog & Holles, inc., a stylized globe with W&H stretched across it. She opened it carefully, sliding the letter inside out with relish. Conny loved post.

_Dear Conyeri,_

_ First I should apologise for writing to you from work- but you know how it is! Things are going very well here; so well, in fact, that I got a promotion! It's a big raise and a load more responsibility. I would have waited to tell you when you go back, but I'm so excited! I've moved from PR to something all together more interesting- I'm to work with the team that deals with 'sensitive' shipments, checking them out and making sure they aren't in any way illegal. Just last week I heard some Moroccan wizard tried to have us ship a teenaged dragon to Birmingham! There will be all sorts of cool artifacts and interesting things I'll get to see and work with. Maybe the next thing you receive from me will be a Somali Shrinking Sack? I'm told they're all the rage in illegal muggle-baiting. _

_ In other news, we've booked the campsite and we're off this Easter down to Dorset to attend the British Wizarding Literature Festival. If you're up for coming, we've got two extra beds in the caravan, if you'd like to bring a friend. Or you can stay at school, and make us sad. _

(Here, David's mind had wandered as one is wont to do at work and drawn a picture of an unhappy stick-man, who was being attacked by what looked like flying bags. Conny decided these were Somali Shrinking Sacks.)

_I've also enclosed something I found useful during my school days but haven't yet trusted you with. It used to help me out a lot, so I figure the same could be true of you, too. _

_ Be good, hope to hear from you soon,_

_ Dad_

_(P.S.- Your mum tells me to make sure you're eating your vegetables. And she also says that you're missing the new season of Doctor Who and that it's wonderful.)_

Conny smiled fondly at the doodle-strewn letter and curiously reached into the envelope. She pulled out a tiny, fluffy quill with a curiously ornate nib- actually, as she looked, it had two little eyes that were looking around shiftily. She held it, at a loss as to its use.

"What iz zat?" Jon asked, gently stroking the downy quill. As if responding to his touch, it jumped out of Conny's hand and zoomed across to the nearest paper- the back of the envelope in which she's received it- and began to write furiously.

_Je veux quitter cet endroit ... Maman, papa, tu me manques…_

Jon watched it and went very red, snatching the paper back up. "C'est privé!"

Conny's French was only good enough to pick a couple of words out of that before Jonmarc burned the whole letter to a crisp with his raw embarrassment. "Zat thing is evil!"

"Why, what did it do?"

"It… it writes out ze thoughts of ze person just touching eet!" He said furiously.

As though that was a bad thing?

"Brilliant!" A grin spread across Conny's face. She grabbed the parchment that her dad has written the letter on, stood up, and went over to a random sixth year girl, just brushing the back of her neck with the quill. It jumped again into action, this time spelling out:

_Why is Professor Snape so sexy? It's just, his dark, broody, sexy… dark… masculine…sensual…_

Conny quickly picked the quill up off of the paper before it could write any more, and made a mental note to steer clear of the crazy Huffflepuff sixth-year girl who fancied Snape. She continued her walk down the aisle, feeling safe this time with a fourth-year Ravenclaw boy.

_Is it so wrong of me to think this? I mean, Jack and Henry have girlfriends all ready… but all I want is Professor Snape. That's not normal, right? He's just… oh, get out of my head, you mysteriously sexy black-clad hunk of a Potions Master!_

Conny now was under the impression that the whole school fancied Snape, and worse, that they thought quite graphically about him over breakfast! The quill began drawing a rough diagram of what the fourth-year boy would like to do to Snape, but Conny this time yanked it off the paper and into one of the clasped inner pockets where it couldn't wreak quite so much havoc.

Useful indeed.

"Good morning Lady Conny, and fair Sir Jonmarc." Lucy appeared from nowhere as she was often wont to do, taking a seat and yawning widely. "You look a bit stiff, Con."

"I was a chest of drawers a while ago."

"Ah," Lucy said, "Of course that explains it."

They rolled their eyes and tucked into their breakfast, but the lull in conversation gave her mind a chance to wander back to what had happened with Douglas. She recognized the man in the room- he worked at Dogweed and Deathcap in Hogsmeade, but why was her trying to… control the Gryffindor Quidditch captain? Come to think of it, perhaps he'd been the cause of Rissa's strange questioning, too?

She tried to focus on what she knew of the man. He was maybe slightly younger than her father- so, mid to late thirties. He was attractive, but thin. He could be any of thousands of wizards around the country.

He'd tried to kill her.

The realization sunk into Conny like an axe in the head. She knew the words of the killing curse- every witch or wizard did, but they didn't dare utter them. _Avada Kedavra_, instant, unavoidable death. Just thinking about it made her shiver. All she'd ended up with was slightly singed eyebrows- how close had she come to death back there? Who was this man to be using such a curse so indiscriminately?

Conny was suddenly very worried. If he was in Hogsmeade, what was to stop him just waltzing up to the castle and offing her? Nothing.

She took a couple of deep breaths to keep calm and considered everything over a boiled egg and soldiers. He'd seen her face, but Conny didn't really stand out amongst hundreds of students at Hogwarts. That was provided he even got into the castle. She'd read _Hogwarts: A History_, and she knew there were multitudes of protective enchantments cast over the school. Still, no spell was perfect.

For now, she'd have to wait- and stay away from ill people. She realized that for some reason, the man could see through their eyes- act through them, even- so she had to steer clear of the hospital wing.

"Earth calling Planet Conny." Lucy said, waving her hand in front of Conny's face. "Do you copy, Planet Conny?"

"Copy." She said quickly, just avoiding dribbling yolk onto her clothes. "What's the D-L, Earth?"

"The D-L is that breakfast is nearly over and we're going to be late for Transfiguration."

"Copy that, Earth. Planet Conny will finish refueling her Starfleet and prepare thrusters to slingshot around the girls' bathrooms before docking at Transfiguration."

Lucy blinked. "I didn't get any of that."

"You've never seen… Star Trek?"

"Star Whom?"

"Eesh." Conny stuffed some toast into her mouth and followed Lucy out of the Great Hall. "I forget you know nothing about muggle stuff."

"Not true- I know about Doctor Peter Davidson."

Conny rolled her eyes. "Peter Davidson is the actor who plays the Doctor, silly. You need to take muggle studies if we're going to keep hanging out."

Conny grabbed her books from a cubby in the bottom of the statue of Klickwurth McTiff (no idea who he was or why he had a statue, since the brass plaque had been worn blank long, long ago) and they hurried up the Grand Staircase to Transfiguration. McGonagall was back now, apparently having suffered a particularly nasty bout of flu following an unfortunate encounter with an Arctic Azalea that had, unbeknownst to Professor Sprout, been growing up the side of the castle and had launched an attack through McGonagall's office window.

They were, luckily, early, and found seats on the same row as Gil, who had his head down on the desk and appeared to be asleep.

They pulled out their notes from last lesson and quickly had a look over them, trying desperately to remember all sorts of fiddly facts about Eosir's Constant.

"Psst, you've got the Staford measure of an apple wrong." Conny pointed out, gesturing to Lucy's page of neat equations. Conny's handwriting had never been good, but it looked especially scrawly when compared to Lucy's precise, clear script.

"What is it?"

"Uh, mass divided by signature… I don't know an apple's signature, lemme look it up." She hefted her copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration up on the desk and flipped to the back, which contained several hundred pages of various information about objects and spells that was needed for equations. "Apartment… ape… aphid… hey, an aphid's signature is only 1/24?"

"Do I care?"

"Of course not. Um, apple is… 2/5."

"Right. So if my apple is 4.95 oz, and its signature, that makes its staford measure… 12.4?"

"Three significant figures, so… lemme check mine… yeh, that's right." Conny cross-referenced their homework.

"I hate Transiguration. Muggles have an easy version of it called Fizzicks, but they measure everything differently." Lucy said conversationally. "They use grammes instead of ounces."

"But that must muck all their calculations up!" Conny frowned. "I agree though. I see why so many people say that Transfig is the hardest class, there's too much maths!"

Professor McGonagall emerged from the door, today in magenta velvet with white lace trim, looking strangely severe and stylish at the same time. Her square spectacles perched on her nose as she swept to the front of the classroom, leaving just enough time for Jonmarc to skid into the classroom, his books clutched to his chest and half a croissant in his mouth.

"Mr. Lucwitt, as happy as I am that you enjoy Hogwarts cuisine, I hardly find the presence of your breakfast all over your face appropriate." She said sharpy. Jonmarc did his best impression of one of those snakes that unhinge their jaws and swallowed the rest of the pastry whole, nodding meekly and finding a seat near Polly and Anna, who looked at the crumbes on his jumper with disdain.

"I trust you have completed the assignments that I set in my absence." She waved her wand and papers whizzed from everywhere; including, in one case (no names, of course, _Jonmarc_) from the pocket of his trousers, almost pulling them off in the process. Once the prep had settled on McGonagall's desk, she surveyed the classroom evenly. "You have been studying Eosir's Constant of Magical Governance for the past few weeks. As much as I appreciate that theory is dry, you will not be able to satisfactorily perform the practical magic unless you know what you are doing- for instance, listening to me speak, Mr. Staniss, however interesting Mr. Crymge's letter appears to be- and therefore we will be moving onto the second element of Eosir's Constant."

The class knew well to suppress their groans- McGonagall had kept them all well into lunch last time they'd done that- and got out their quills and parchment, anticipating lots of writing.

"So far we have been studying the properties and movements of matter, but now we will move on to the forces manipulating this matter. The way to recognize magic's unique force signature is to…"

McGonagall's lecture went on, and Conny attentively took notes. Transfiguration was already very advanced, and she knew that even the Ravenclaws were struggling with it. She herself actually quite liked the complexities of it all; the way that things clicked together right and a result came out the other side. She wasn't very good at Astronomy, where stars all meant different things on different days and were pretty useless anyway. For instance, on Sunday evening, when the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs did Astronomy, Professor Sinistra had told them that Jupiter's orbital position indicated that tomorrow would be a day of exultation, whereas just a day later, on Monday, Conny had tripped over Bach and stubbed her toe, sworn loudly, and gotten docked five house points by Jessica Hewes, who was a prissy seventh-year prefect. Lucy made up for it by stuffing flesh-eating slugs into her shoes, but still, it wasn't a day of exultation.

Conny supposed that she was too sensible.

Transifguration ended after what seemed like a couple of weeks and the class made the mad rush up to the third floor for Defense Against the Dark Arts- McGonagall was soft and cuddly compared to Killory when it came to handing out punishment for being late. The good thing about Defense was that it was mostly practical, and Conny and Lucy got a good chance to go over the spells they'd be using tonight. Conny kept _Cephalosortia _to herself, though. She didn't know why, but she had a good feeling about it. Maybe Sinistra's forecast had been for Friday instead of Monday. Conny quite fancied a bit of exultation.

She used Diligence to counter Lucy's leg-locker curse and then noticed that Killory was watching them out of the corners of her eyes, looking at once deep in thought and very worried. Conny paused, examining the look closely. It wasn't a Professor's normal emotions, for a start. What was that she'd overheard Dumbledore and McGonagall saying? That Killory… represented a power much greater than herself, or something like that. She eyed the professor suspiciously, but something told her that Killory was no Death Eater, or out to harm the student in any way. She was just… mysterious.

Or perhaps Conny was just reading too much into it all.

Maybe I want a mystery, she thought, shooting off and idle vermillous at Lucy just to appear as though they were doing something. Lucy took it to the chest and grimaced, stepping backwards, but there was a telltale pulse of magic out of her feet that meant she'd used Diligence. It was different to each person. Lucy imagined the magic flowing out of her feet, but Conny's personal preference was imagining herself far away from her body, letting the spell hit, them 'moving' back in as though the impact hadn't occurred.

Of course, that was only for direct spells. Often, Killory would curse the classroom or confund several people at once, just to make sure they were on their toes. Lucy had taken out a copy of the approved Ministry of Magic syllabus from the library earlier in the term, and Diligence was taken off the curriculum in 1953. Maybe it was making a comeback?

Deciding against thinking too much (it was bad for the health), Conny took a break while Lucy hexed the rest of the class from behind, causing untold merriment. Conny ran her fingers around her wand absentmindedly, feeling the soft hum of magical potential that ran from her body into what was essentially a transformer. It took her own magic and multiplied and directed it for her. Sphinx whisker, she thought, what a strange core that is, compared to the unicorn tail hairs and dragon heartstrings of those around her. Others did have remarkable wands, but the vast majority were ordinary. Conny supposed that most people were ordinary- they'd get decent grades, get a job, have a family, and live fulfilled lives. Like her father, really. David was very normal.

"That's quite enough!" Killory said over the din, and the class at once fell silent. "Now, on Monday we will be moving on to specific counter-jinxes and their role in the Wizarding world. In preparation, all of you will write me a foot and a half of prose, based on chapters five, six and seven of your textbooks and any further reading you care to undertake. The title of this essay is: 'Explore the counter-spell and its history, use, and effectiveness.' There are a maximum of twenty-seven marks on offer for this essay, as usual."

The students nodded while grimacing inside, and began to pack up their things. Lucy and Conny were just tucking stray sheets of parchment into their textbooks when Killory beckoned them over. "Miss Ra, Miss DeHayersae, if you please."

They looked at each other and stepped up to the front of the classroom. Lucy looked as though she was fretting, but Conny knew they weren't in trouble.

"I would like to wish you the best of luck in your Dueling this evening." She said, sorting out her own papers from behind her desk. "I trust you have been dedicating much of your time to practice?"

"Yes, Professor." Conny said, careful to avoid the 'ma'am' that had lost her five points in her first lesson.

"Very good. May you choose your spells carefully." She smiled secretively. "And Miss DeHayersae- Conyeri, if I may- I suggest that you get more sleep."

Conny blushed slightly. It was perfectly possible that Killory, who was very quiet and difficult to detect normally (save for her bright white hair), may have seen her haunting the castle during the night. "Yes, Professor."

"Though if you can't bring yourself to sleep, I can recommend a trip to the disused teachers' bathroom on the second floor. The house-elves keep it immaculately clean, but none of us ever use it. I can reliably tell you, having been a prefect myself, and now a professor, that it is far superior to the prefects' bathroom on the fifth floor."

Conny cocked her head, but nodded. "Thanks… I suppose."

It was perfectly normal for your teacher to recommend a private bathroom to you, right?

"Well, along to lunch with you now!" Killory said as they dawdled. "And remember, the force of a spell is all in the wrist!"

They nodded and left rather more quickly than was strictly necessary.

Lunch was packed, and they had trouble finding somewhere to sit together. Luke saw them and waved them over to the area of the table that, by general consensus, was occupied by seniors and prefects. He found them some space and handed them some of the lasagna. "Hey, you two."

"Thanks." Lucy said as they tucked in, both oddly hungry. Transfiguration did that to you. "Why the special treatment?"

Luke chuckled. "You're our two shining lights in the next round of the dueling. If you win your matches, we can beat Gryffindor for points at the end of the Easter term, and then, if we beat them at Quidditch in May… we're set for the house cup!"

He did a little happy dance until Ally gave him a sharp look. "What? I'm just stirring up some house enthusiasm!"

"No. You just think that if we win the cup this year, you'll be in a better position to be head boy next year." She said.

Luke scowled at her half-heartedly before conceding. "I suppose."

Ally took a triumphant swig of pumpkin juice and started talking down the other end of the table to her friends. Rolling his eyes, Luke made a silly face at her and turned back to the two first-years, grinning. "I don't know why I put up with her."

"Because she's your girlfriend?" Conny suggested. "You have to."

He gave a short, barking laugh and nodded good-heartedly. "I'm glad I won't be here to see you two get boyfriends. Especially you, Lucy- you've already got half the school after you!"

Conny's heart twinged, remembering what Lucy had told her about building up a client base at Christmas, but the half-Egyptian witch seemed not to take the comment too heavily, and smiled politely. "It's 'cause I'm amazing, Niall."

"We're back to surnames now, Ra?"

"It sounds silly when you say it like that, in your posh voice." She complained. "Ra. Short 'a'. Not Rah, rah, raaaah."

"Just because your pronunciation is so poor-"

Lucy threw a pat of butter at him. "My accent's my own."

"Even Jonmarc is easier to understand than you, Rah, and he's French." Luke teased. Several pats of butter later, he laughed and held them in the air with magic. "Non-verbal spells. We're only just beginning to learn them."

"Cool." Conny said, watching the butter float. "How do you do it without words? Do you use your wand?"

"You have to have your wand." He said, gesturing to where he had it in his hand, "But you have to concentrate harder, because without a word to guide it, magic has less direction."

"Awesome!" Lucy grabbed a couple of pats of butter out of the air and started making patterns with them on her empty plate. "I can't wait to be older, to do all this cool stuff."

"N.E.W.T Transfiguration is not cool." Luke shuddered. "I'm pretty smart, but I'm struggling so badly. I'll be lucky to get an A."

"A?" Conny asked. She'd seen her mother marking work, and she knew that for muggles, A was the top grade.

"Acceptable. It's the first pass grade. Then you have E for Exceeds Expectations, O for Outstanding, a S for Smarmy Swot."

"He's making the last one up." Ally said over her shoulder.

"Hush." He poked her with his spoon. "Then failing grades are P for Poor, D for Dreadful, T for Troll and F for Couldn't be Fuc-"

Ally grabbed his ear. "If you want to be head boy, sweetheart, you shouldn't be cussing at poor little eleven-year-olds."

"I'm twelve!" Conny said indignantly.

"Same difference." Luke waved her off. "Come back when you're sixteen, the we can swear together as much as you like."

"I will." Conny huffed. Far away, a bell chimed the hour and people began finishing their meals. "Ugh, usually I'd be in the mood for double charms, but I feel so tired and nervous…"

"Don't be." Luke rested his hand on her shoulder. "I've heard you and Lucy practicing when I've been out patrolling- yes, don't give me that look, I can hear you even if I can't get to you- and by the sounds of things you're working especially hard. You'll be brilliant. Don't fret."

"Luke, you coming to Ancient Runes?" one of his friends asked from behind. Luke replied with the affirmative, gave both younger girls a quick squeeze on the shoulder, and wished them the best of luck before hurrying off.

Conny and Lucy, stomachs like nests of breeding salamanders, followed a few minutes later, feeling rather apprehensive.

When they entered the classroom, they realized they needn't have worried. Professor Flitwick, being Head of Ravenclaw, wasn't about to let his two shining lights of dueling, the 'diligence duo', go without any help.

"Come and take a seat, Conyeri, Lucy." He gestured to seats near him on the front row. "Now, I'm not sure if you knew, but in my prime I was a dueling champion. I placed third at the Worldwide Dueling Championships, 1966. That was, of course, a while ago, but I still know a trick or two." He winked at them. "And Ravenclaw could do with a bit of help on the house points front, too, now I think about it. You're both confident with _Incendio_ now, and all we'll be covering today is more practice on self-containing flames, which, Conyeri, I know you are particularly excellent at. And Lucy, your _Wingardium Leviosa_ always lifts my spirits- I see no reason not to concentrate, for the moment, on dueling."

Conny and Lucy exchanged shocked looks but grinned and nodded. Flitwick had been the third-best duelist in the entire world. That was… awesome.

"Class, today I want you to practice self-contained flames. Miss Montgomery, you are in charge." He announced. "You all know the spell for conjuring water- _Aguamenti_- and I expect to return to an impeccable classroom. Not a single scorch-mark or flaming student is acceptable. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." They chorused, looking at Conny and Lucy curiously.

"Very good. I'll be in the adjoining room if anything untoward occurs." He nodded and motioned for the two girls to follow him. For a little man, he moved surprisingly quickly. They withstood the nosy and jealous gaze of the rest of the class were very relieved when Flitwick closed the door that joined the larger classroom and its smaller annex. The room was set out simply, with a couple of bookcases at the end, and several targets painted on the walls. It looked like a place to practice spells.

"You are both welcome to use this room any time you like. The door we just came through is normally locked, but there is a passageway from behind that bookcase- the one on the left- up to the Gryffindor Commons. It's a bit of a trek, I'm afraid. You come out behind the tapestry of the African landscape."

"Right." Conny nodded, taking in the information. Flitwick shucked off his outer robes and hung them on the back of one of the few chairs scattered around. It was dark and musty, since there was only a small window set high up on the far wall. Braziers burned with blue flames along the walls. It felt… secret, and powerful, in here.

"I recommend you remove your robes and fold your sleeves up." He said, taking out his sturdy wand. "Now, I understand that you've been researching the different dueling styles of your possible opponents. I have to say… you two are very smart. First-years aren't given enough credit. Anyway, Conyeri, I noticed in your duel with Ralphus that you leave a long thinking time between spells… you have to take the initiative, not react… here, let me show you…"

Conny and Lucy had possibly the most amazing lesson ever. Away from the rest of the class and teaching dueling- something he truly excelled at- Flitwick was animated and in his element. He was surprisingly fast, and very, very good. They learned more with him in two hours than they'd learned in several weeks. And it was fun- Lucy's stinging hex went wild, hit the roof, and somehow became bouncy, ricocheting off the walls and multiplying, causing a strange dance the three of them had to do to avoid the rebounding stringing hexes that were jumping around the box-room. Flitwick actually, to his credit, back-flipped over one of them, leaving Conny and Lucy in awe, before expertly taking each hex out with several different spells from his wand at once. He gave them a little bow and the clapped enthusiastically.

Since Flitwick concentrated on their personal style, both girls had a chance to watch the other working. It was entirely possible that they could be put up against each other in this round, and neither was going to concede without a fight. Conny realized that Lucy struck quickly and precisely, but not with great strength, and Lucy listened intently when Flitwick pointed out that Conny was strong with her spells, but not accurate enough.

When they'd done all they could in the lesson's limited time, Flitwick nodded proudly. "You two are the most dedicated students I've had in a long time. I have to say, I'm proud of you."

"Thank you, sir." They both beamed, high-fiving each other.

"I would really like Ravenclaw to win- or, at least, one of you two to win. We haven't really achieved much lately. I'm hoping that with students like you two, my House can really make an impression." He smiled. "I have a feeling in my bones that the 80s will be a good decade for blue and bronze."

"Hear, hear!" Lucy grinned, toasting an imaginary glass.

"I have these for you- I thought it would be nice to show that we're serious about this." He took two neatly wrapped bits of cloth out of his robes, blushing slightly. "I haven't been Housemaster long, and, well…"

"Oh, wow!" Lucy unwrapped hers. It was a slender dueling glove, the type you saw the professionals wearing. "Has it got all the usual charms on it?"

"Of course. Anti-disarming, super-grip, direction-enhancing- I put the charms on myself." Fliwick glowed with pride. "I know that you're left-handed, and they don't make many of them."

Lucy slipped it on. It was thin, high-quality cotton, with an anti-sweat charm on it, plated by thin leather dyed dark blue, with bronze edging. Lucy's name was engraved on the back of her hand in runes, which glowed slightly when she flexed. "Sir… are you sure? These must have taken ages to make!"

He shrugged, though he was slightly pink. "I felt bad… because Aleitheas- sorry, Professor Killory- has really been present in her House's life this year, and I haven't. I'm relatively new to being a Housemaster… and, well, I just wanted to show my appreciation that you all are trying so hard for Ravenclaw."

Conny might have hugged him there and then if it hadn't been particularly inappropriate. She put her own glove on, feeling the cool tingle of the runes activating, and she and Lucy high-fived grinning like lunatics at each other.

"Diligence Duo, Ravenclaw's Finest!" Lucy winked as they stood, feeling more ready than they ever had. "You ready to kick arse, Conny?"

"Language, Miss Ra." Flitwick said quietly, but not too harshly. If anything, the tiny Charms professor was overflowing with pride. He almost seemed taller, though it could be a trick of the light. "Good luck, you two. I'm rooting for you."

"Thank you Professor." Conny said, quite moved. She felt some sort of hot, golden emotion rise into her chest, making her fingers tense slightly, but she didn't know an exact name for it. It ranked at some intersection between pride, excitement, satisfaction, apprehension and happiness. She couldn't think of exactly what it was, so she just thought of it as feeling golden. Or, she thought, seeing the trim on her dueling gloves, bronze. She was feeling bronze. It was good.

"Now, we've already overrun far too long, I suspect the castle has burned down around this room…" Flitwick nodded to them and the three exited the room quietly. The classroom smelled slightly of burnt wood, and Ralphus's school jumper had some suspicious burn-holes in it, but other than that, Flitwick seemed satisfied. "Very good! Now, weekend homework…"

The class, now resigned to the massive quantities of prep they were expected to do, listened intently. "Your homework is to prepare the Ravenclaw Common room in celebrations of our impending dueling victory!"

His students blinked, digested the information for a second, and then cheered in unison, with much rowdy talk of what the theme would be. Lawrence Staniss wanted to play several dubious-sounding games, one involving a blindfolded ghoul and a dead chicken, which Flitwick vetoed quickly. "Nothing too outlandish, please! Now, I'm sure you'll get stuck into this assignment as quickly as you would any other homework- have a good evening, and a good weekend, all of you!"

He squeaked the last couple of words, but the enthusiasm and general gist of it reached the Ravenclaws and they scrambled to pack up their things and rush to the Tower, to get ready for the Dueling tonight and then the party afterwards.

She and Lucy waved back to Professor Flitwick and followed after them. The journey up to the tower was quiet, as both of them were nervous and a little tired. When they got to Charlie the eagle knocker, Conny lamely answered a question- it wasn't always riddles- about a potion ingredient, then they made a beeline for the girls dorms.


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen: The Soak and the Seeker

Conny was taking off her jumper when Lucy pounced.

"Conny, you know I love you to bits and all…" she said apprehensively, "But… Look, I know it was hard for you with what happened in the bath and all, but you need to wash. You're beginning to smell like Jonmarc's socks."

Offended, Conny gave herself an experimental sniff. True, she'd only really managed a wash and some very quick, very horrible showers since the incident with the bath, and Ralphus's cruel reminder of it, but she didn't think she smelled that bad. "Really?"

"Yes." Lucy nodded, pinching her nose in mock-disgust, her dark brown eyes telling a different story. She was worried for her friend. "Tell you what- all the showers and baths are full up here, why don't we go down to that teachers' bathroom Killory mentioned?"

"We?"

"Yeah, we. You'd be okay if I was there to keep you safe, right?" Lucy said hesitantly, biting her thumbnail. "And it would really relax us, help our nerves…"

Conny looked undecided, her knuckles unusually white on the fresh shirt she was holding. "I… I suppose. But what if it's so nice that I fall asleep? And if you fall asleep too? Then… then… nobody will be there, because Killory said it was disused, and nobody will come and save us and-"

"My dear, do calm down." The Grey Lady glided through a wall and said in her oddly echoey voice. "If it would help, I could accompany you. It is not as if I am doing that much."

"That would be-"

Conny cut Lucy off, "But what use is a ghost? A ghost can't catch me if I slip in, a ghost can't-"

"I am very aware of what I cannot do." The Grey Lady said thinly, looking with a mixture of pity and ire at the flustered young witch. "I can always go for help if, as is so unlikely as to be impossible, the both of you suddenly drift into slumber."

Conny opened her mouth to protest, but Lucy elbowed her and gave her a look that conveyed a lot more. "We'd be honoured."

The Grey Lady nodded, slightly amused, and sank through the floor. "I will meet you there." Her silvery head said just before it disappeared through the floor. Conny scowled at her companion before Lucy just shrugged, grabbed her hand, and snatched their changed of clothes from their trunks just as they exited the dormitory. When they passed through the Common room, it appeared that decorations were already underway, with streamers and bunting being put up, and chairs and tables being moved to the edges of the room to make a central space. They hurried away from that, moving quickly down through the floors to the second. By now, most first-years had a relatively good grasp of the castle proper, but their knowledge of secret passageways was quite selective, and usually centered on the frequented, popular routes that many students used. For instance, the passage from the seventh floor to the Charms annex was new, and they'd undoubtedly use it because it was so efficient.

The teachers' bathroom, Conny found out after searching for quite some time, was behind a beautiful map of Argyllshire. However, she didn't know how to get in.

As she examined the map, some of the script shifted and formed a question. _Where is it? _The map asked. Conny and Lucy shrugged at each other. "Where is what?"

_Where is it? _The map repeated again.

"Ah!" Conny remembered. "It's all in the wrist."

The map seemed to ripple for a moment, and, realizing the spell, Conny tentatively pushed through the doorway that it created into the bathroom, pulling Lucy behind her.

The teachers' bathroom was massive. It had a high, vaulted roof that was dusty from disuse, with marvelously large and intricate spiders webs floating like shimmering lace from the rafters. The walls were decorated with warm, orange braziers that flared into life as soon as they entered, and thick, black and indigo drapes that seemed to project a feeling of secrecy, peace, and simplicity.

The bath was another thing entirely.

It was set out in circles, the smallest and shallowest starting in the near corner, only a couple of metres in diameter and about waist-height. It was connected through a thin channel of water- just wide enough for somebody to walk through- to a second, larger, deeper pool, which in turn had its own channel on the other side to the next. The fourth pool was at least twenty or twenty-five feet across, and its concave bottom was decorated by a tiled depiction of a school of tiny, glittering fish that seemed to move.

"Merlin." Lucy breathed, looking around. "Oh- look at the towels!"

Conny smiled nervously as Lucy pulled her over to the rack of towels that lined the right wall. They fluttered as they approached and seemed to take off into the air like huge, colourful birds, floating on the currents of hot air that rose from the magcically heated baths.

The Grey Lady floated by, looking as though she were riding a towels in a most amusing fashion. "Good evening. I trust you find this place to your liking?"

Lucy grinned. "Very much so!" she turned to Conny, concerned. "Are you ready, Conny?"

In truth, Conny had been so mesmerized and excited that she'd forgotten her trepidation a little. "I think so."

"Brilliant!" Lucy threw off her clothes and merrily ran over to the first pool. Conny, somewhat slower and a little embarrassed, pulled off the rest of her uniform but wrapped her arms around herself. It would be easier once they were under the water.

Lucy slipped into the first pool, finding it lukewarm. Conny followed her, lowering herself down slowly, sighing in relief when her feet touched the bottom. They used various brushes and soaps on the side of the pool to give themselves a preliminary scrub, and then moved along the channel, still in the water, into the second pool. Conny felt the water warming as she emerged into this one, and found in pleasantly warm. All around the side, it had a level of seating not unlike the Jacuzzi that she had in her magically expanded house. There were a number of taps and levers around the side of this pool. Conny and Lucy had fun mucking around with them until they had bubbles, fruity-smelling bath soap, several rubber ducks and, oddly, one of the levers activated a large, antiquated Gramophone that sat squatly nearby, and it began to play old record that echoed around the massive chamber.

"This is nice." Conny said, letting herself relax a bit.

"Indeed." Lucy said dryly. "Much better than being nervous and smelly, hmm?"

"…Yes." Conny admitted, lathering her hair with shampoo. "Thank you, Lucy."

The other witch cocked her head and smiled. "No problemo. We gotta stick up for each other, right? What happened to you was horrible. What Ralphus did was sick. It's my duty as a friend to try the best I can to help you."

"But… it just seems so much to ask of you. I feel needy."

"We all feel needy." Lucy chuckled with knowledge beyond her years. "Especially at our age, when everything has to be handed out on a silver platter. It's normal. It's what friends are for."

Conny giggled slightly. "What?" Lucy asked, perplexed.

"Nothing." Conny said. "Just that, you're such a softie. 'Big, bad London gangsta' Lucy Ra is really… cuddly, and sweet. You're not making a client base. You're making friends."

She leaned forwards. "You're your own person. You're right about being needy at the moment- but when you're older, you won't need your brothers, and you can live whatever life you like."

Lucy smiled, but then make a vomiting gesture with her mouth and fingers. "If I'm a softie, you're just mushy."

"Am not!"

"Yes, you are." Lucy grinned. "Shall we move to the next pool?"

Conny nodded, but didn't take her eyes of her companion. "This conversation will continue whichever pool we're in, Ra."

"Again with the Raaah!" Lucy said, angry. "It's R-a. Just that. Short 'a'. Merlin, people these days…"

They emerged out into the third pool but didn't think much of it and swam across into the swimming pool sized final pool, enjoying the experience. Conny's nerves had faded away and she felt in a particularly good mood when they finally got out and ran around trying to catch towels. They were thick and fluffy, and slightly warm. Conny thought she may just fall asleep now, and the dueling could go to hell.

No, she remembered firmly as a floating comb ran gently through her hair, Ravenclaw was counting on her. Beside her, Lucy was yawning and painting her toenails bright blue. "You think it's my colour?"

"Depends, what look are you going for?"

Lucy frowned. "Maybe… kick-arse duelist?"

"That colour says… twice-divorced trying-too-hard librarian part-time ghoul."

"Really? Is it _that _Madam Pince?"

"Yuh-huh."

"Rats." Lucy rummaged around in her make-up bag for another colour. "What about… this?"

Conny regarded the bright-red with suspicion. "It's a little bit… slutty?"

Lucy nodded. "I think I have a magical one that paints tartan."

"Go for it."

They dried slowly and put on fresh clothes. Conny's robes he noticed with a little bit of astonishment, were nearly the right length, which meant she'd grown since Jonmarc's mother had bought them extra-long. She drew herself up to her full height and grinned. "I'm taller than you, Lucy."

"Of course you are." She rolled her eyes, concentrating on drying her hair into front of a large vent that spewed warm air. "I'm never going to be very tall."

"How d'you know?"

"By magic." Lucy said sarcastically. "My genes, Conny. My mum was short, her mum was short, way back to the beginning of time when we were dinosaurs."

"You're descended from midget dinosaurs?"

"Yup." Lucy said.

Conny grinned, accepting Lucy's stand-offishness as nerves, and put her hair up in a ponytail. The Grey Lady floated past with an equally ghostly lyre, plucking out a slightly off-key version of greensleeves. The calm before the storm, Conny supposed, leaning back into the deck chairs the two girls were on, closing her eyes. She had, again, a sudden feeling of- bronzeness. She'd had a bath. She'd gone in the water, and hadn't drowned. She'd managed it. Conny smiled, confidence bubbling in her chest. She gripped her wand and, as was becoming a habit, ran her thumb over the handle. She hadn't noticed it when she'd first bought it, but the handle was carved into the design of an old-fashioned puzzle box. It comforted her. If, she thought, if only everything else would make as much sense as taking a bath with your best friend.

Her heart gave a little twinge and her opened her eyes, looking over at Lucy, who was now checking herself in a tall mirror. Was Lucy her best friend? Yes, she certainly thought so, but did Lucy, popular, charismatic Lucy, reciprocate these feelings? She had hundreds of friends. Rosie McAvery, the other Ravenclaw girls, everyone liked Lucy, except possibly Ralphus. Surely, often, they were better company than Conny, who was quite shy and reclusive? She never gossiped with Polly and Anna and Rebecca, she never went out of her way to make Lucy's life as comfortable as possible. Was she, therefore, not a good friend?

Conny frowned, her bronzeness seeping away. She snatched at it, but it slipped between her fingers as though it had never really existed.

"Right." Lucy said authoratively, making a last adjustment to her Alice band. "Shall we get going? Supper will be starting any minute."

Conny, perturbed, nodded and stood up making sure everything was nice. Her robes were fresh and ironed, her clothes clean, her hair washed, her skin scrubbed and scented… why did she fell so unclean, then?

They left the bathroom as the Grey Lady wished them good luck and walked down to the Great Hall for supper. It was already crowded with excited, whispering students on every table. The professors, up on the high table, looked infinitely relieved that there would be half the students participating in this round as there were in the last- and all of these would at least have proven to possess some grasp of magic. No more wrestling warthogs tonight, hopefully.

The theme of the evening was oriental. Hogwarts most often served British food, but one dinner a week was dedicated to food from around the world. Conny helped herself to Singapore rice noodles and some dodgy-looking soup that turned out to have chicken feet in. She avoided the rest of that, but quite enjoyed dumplings; some sort of duck and a small serving of sushi before her stomach firmly reminded her that she needed her wits about her later on. Setting down her knife and fork, she reached to her goblet to take a swig of pumpkin juice and choked violently as something much more potent slid down her throat.

"Little bit of liquid courage, eh?" Luke said jovially, patting her on the back as she spluttered.

Conny hissed at him and offered a frown that would have make Professor Killory proud. "What did you put in my drink?"

"Nothing." He said sweetly, putting on an innocent look. Conny vowed to make him pay before borrowing some of Jonmarc's instead. Soon, the eating and drinking was done and the students were again ushered out of the Great Hall while the teachers set up the dueling stages. Conny was reminded of the conversation that she'd overheard last time she was here, but this time she was much further away from the door and wouldn't have heard a thing. Not that she was meant to have been listening in on private conversations between Professors in the first place.

The order was given to enter and Conny made a beeline for the first-year stage, dragging Lucy behind her by the hand. She eagerly watched the tapestry decide on the matches.

The first was between Matilda Tirias, the slightly dozy but exceedingly intelligent Gryffindor that Conny copied a large proportion of her Astronomy homework from, and Max Borridge, Slytherin's favourite gorilla. Tilda was all 'oh-dueling-I-forgot-about-that' as she stepped up to face the trouble-making Borridge. Flitwick, who was overseeing them again, introduced the rules for a second time (Borrige looked skeptical) and reminded them that House points rode on the outcome. The Gryffindors whooped and yelled for Tilda, while the rowdy Slytherins were gunning at their loudest for Max, exemplifying the fierce rivalry between the two polar houses.

"Three…two…one-"

Borridge struck first with a fairly strong Curse of the Cacti, but Tilda, who looked quite surprised to find herself being shot at, stepped out of the way as though it was the easiest thing in the world. She took her wand out of her pocket after a rummage (she hadn't even got it out!) and looked at Max with dreamy brown eyes. She waved merrily at her brother, Edwin, who was cheering for her, before, with as little effort as possible, shot a volley of lazy and varied _Locomotor _curses, having yawned halfway through saying the spell. Max veered out of the way of a _Mortis_, but was struck with a _Wibbly_, paralyzing his hands. Tilda flicked her wand at him, knocking him over with a giant floating hand of blue light. She gained the advantage and smiled sweetly. Conny grinned at her. The ease with which Tilda did things was surely infuriating the Slytherins.

"Advantage, Tirias!" Flitwick squeaked from the platform he'd wisely constructed for himself out of the way of the curses and jinxes that were flying around. Tilda curtseyed neatly as Borridge shook the paralysis out of his hands and stood up, cursing under his breath.

Conny's eyes began to wander away from their match around the hall. Last time, she'd been absorbed by the chaos of it all and hadn't really had a chance to properly look around. Certainly, the crowds were larger but the pool of participants smaller this time, and the standard of dueling much higher. Conny's gaze lingered for a couple of minutes on Professor Vector, who was trying to referee the sixth-years on a floating platform. She spotted Luke and Ally in the crowd, clapping and whooping as a curse hit a shaven-headed boy so hard that he flew off the stage and onto the invisible cushioning charm that floated between the two levels of staging.

As she was caught up in events above, Conny neglected events below. All of a sudden, she felt a cold, threatening presence beside her left shoulder and froze, her body tensing as though, perhaps, one of Tilda's Locomotor spells had gone rogue and hit her. Slowly turning her head, Conny saw the neat golden-blonde hair and distant blue eyes of Rissa Mothley, though her features had taken on a tired, strained look, her face seemed… twitchy.

They made eye contact and Conny immediately sensed that the man from Dogweed & Deathcap was watching and waiting behind Rissa's eyes. She could see him sitting quite comfortably by the fire in his little room, staring intently into a small mirror on his lap. He gave her a nasty smile, and Conny backed away, the tugging feeling of being drawn towards him encroaching on her consciousness. She gave Rissa a lingering look and walked over to congratulate Tilda on her victory, keeping Rissa in the corner of her eye all the way. She felt very unsafe.

The tapestry spelled out the next matches, and Conny had to wait while Rosie McAvery lost to Hufflepuff heavyweight Daisy Sorbes, Slytherin Evin Cast flattened Gryffindor Ollie Day in a knockout round, and Mark Aritt narrowly beat Hufflepuff Curtis King (the one who'd be foul to Lucy during Quidditch lessons) until she or Lucy had any matches.

This time, Conny was up first. The match took its time forming on the tapestry. Conny's heart sank as it read _DeHayersae vs Weasley. _Bill Weasley was a very, very talented wizard for his age- as smart as Tilda, but twice as driven to succeed. Charming and intelligent, he was well supported by the whole year group. Conny would have a hard time beating him, and even if she did, she doubted that people would think much of her for it. Sighing, she took several deep breaths and got up on stage, her wand clutched rather tighter than necessary in her gloved hand. She looked down at the gift and felt a little better about her chances. Ravenclaw's confience was her confidence. She faced the short, red-headed boy equally, trying not to be cowed by his skill.

"Are we all ready then?" Flitwick asked, giving Conny a meaningful and supportive glance. "Three… two… one-"

Bill was incredibly fast and got off two spells in quick succession, his wand flying through the air in several fiddling patterns that Conny could only vaguely recognize. Fear flared up inside her as the spells whizzed closer. She knew she couldn't dodge them. There was only one way…

Conny wrenched herself away from her body in the way she imagined whenever she used Professor Killory's Diligence. She felt as if two bricks thumped into her chest, and teetered backwards, but dove back into the fray, the feeling of being hit very distant. Bill just stared, along with everyone else. Since he didn't do Defense Against the Dark Arts with her, he didn't know how good her Diligence skills were.

That said, they weren't good enough to keep that up for long. Conny clicked back into attack mode and threw a spell at him, thick and fast, forcing him on the defensive. "_Excorio!_"

The spell had popped into her head from somewhere, but she'd forgotten what it actually did. To her surprise, in an orange flash, all of Bill's hair disappeared, leaving him with a totally bald, shiny scalp. She must've seen the skinhead boy and subconsciously remembered it.

Bill howled and felt his head, frowning as everyone laughed. He looked back at Conny, wand held out, and yelled: "_Coposibarba!_"

The feeling of a million tickly termites exploded around Conny's body and, much to everyone's amusement, she sprouted copious amounts of brown hair all over her face, chest and arms. She scowled through her new unibrow and fired off several random spells at Bill, who dodged and countered them, throwing back his own. They were testing the waters, getting a feel for each other's style of dueling. Conny made a conscious effort to keep her spells weak and accurate, wanting to mislead him. She took a painful Flipendo to the hand, but the spells on the glove helped her to keep a hold of her wand, enabling her to immediately retaliate.

The match heated up as the timer ticked away. Conny, teeth gritted, took several hits to the head and chest in quick succession, and was feeling dizzy and pained for it. Bill was panting, a gash above his eye that was spilling blood down into his eye where a verdimillious had clipped him at the wrong angle.

As the match wore on, both duelists began to get desperate. Conny knew she couldn't keep it up- Bill bombarded her with curse after curse, strong, accurate and fast. Diligence became too tiring, and soon she was fighting hard, her head down, hexes flying from her wand so quickly that she was shaking, waves of tiredness breaking over her, the room becoming more and more distorted, until-

"_Cephalosortia!_" she shouted, her voice hoarse, a feeling of utter exhaustion cresting in her limbs. A blue light spilled from the end of her wand and, quick as lightning, something flew from it at Bill. She blinked as she identified whatever it was she'd just conjured- and gasped with surprise. It was a real, living, angry, purple octopus.

Bill yelled and tried to swat it away, but it firmly planted its suckers around his face. He attempted to pull it off, but it stuck fast, tentacles swaying wildly as he shuffled around, trying to keep his balance, muffled shouts and cried for help coming from him. He tripped and fell backwards onto his rear, and Conny was awarded the advantage. She hesitated, wand raised, poised to win, but some strange sense told her that something was very wrong.

She flattened herself against the stage on a whim, but it proved to have saved her life. The harsh, hot red light of a curse whizzed over her back, tearing a path through her robes and flesh, cutting into her back as it flew by. Pain unlike anything she'd known burst into her consciousness, feeling as though her flesh has been split open and she herself was spilling out. A shout erupted around her and several spells fizzed into life. Conny turned her head to see what was happened, but her back, as though a knife had lanced into it, buckled and sent a wave of nausea through her. She saw, though, that above her, Douglas Ohsem was standing on the edge of the seventh-year platform, his wand out, pointing directly at her.

Several stunning spells fired by the staff, not least Professor Flitwick, hit him in the chest and he passed out, toppling off the side into the cushion. An uproar spread through the hall like a Mexican wave at a muggle football match, sending everyone into hysterics. Conny blinked and took a couple of painful breaths. He'd…. no, Conny thought, she'd been stupid, sticking her nose where it didn't belong. If the man was controlling Rissa, why shouldn't he have access to Douglas like he had at the Hospital Wing? In fact, she thought, rising panic constricting her throat, what was to stop him controlling every ill student in the school? And, what was to stop him switching the painful curse he'd used then for a killing curse?

Professor Killory, strangely, rushed towards her first. The beautiful witch knelt down and inspected her back delicately, her fingers trembling. Conny's eyes were closed, but she heard what the Psychomancer was muttering. "Shouldn't have ever assigned… far too unsafe… what have I done?"

Conny, blood pooling underneath her, heard and thought about little more. She coruscated in and out of consciousness. She could hear Dumbledore's voice agreeing to something, she felt the gut-wrenching sensation of side-along apparition, and then the murmur and panic of unknown voices, the hard, uncomfortable bed beneath her, burning in her back, a tingling in her fingers and toes, something ramming into her wrist…

Killory's cool hand in hers…

The chiming of an oddly familiar clock…

Then, at last, the familiar and ensconcing presence of sleep.


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen: The Psychomancer's Plot

Conny stood on a grassy knoll, the wind hot and heavy, curling in invisible eddies around her ankles. The sun, red and raw in the sky, was dipping under the shimmering, watery horizon, daubing the grass and the trees with calm and sinister pink. She looked around, blinking, feeling as though she'd surfaced from same dream. No, this was the dream. This was _her _dream, the same one she'd had in the bath when she'd nearly drowned.

The same events played out. The figures arrived, one by one, their cloaks rippling, the soft hum of careful and stealthy apparition and the plume of greyish smoke that accompanied it mushrooming up around. They spoke in low voices, so Conny stepped forwards, to hear what they were saying.

Two dark eyes met her, and sleep was roughly torn from her, dragging her by the neck up, up, towards the watery light.

Conny's eyes snapped open and she spasmed wildly, pain crashing down on her like a muggle train hitting her back at ninety miles per hour. She collapsed back down into the bed; sweat dripping from her forehead down into her eyes.

She looked around. She didn't recognise the place. It was… curious. The room was quite small and very low. The light fittings you'd normally find on a muggle ceiling stuck up from the floor. The window outside showed, inconceivably, Bridge St. Underground station. A train stopped, took on passengers, and left, none of them seeming to see Conny through the large window. The furniture was sparse and jumbled- a thin, threadbare, hairy rug covered the middle of the linoleum floor. The bed itself was thick and squishy, like in a hotel, but beside it was a seventeenth-century French armoire. An oil painting depicting an odd jumble of people occupied the near wall. Conny recognised Winston Churchill, the Dalai Lama, Cleopatra and both members of Wham!, though Conny could only name George Michael.

She tried to sit up, but found herself half-paralyzed by the pain in her back. Worry swept over her as the events of the dueling came to the front of her mind. Douglas, Rissa, the man in Dogweed and Deathcap… her heart hammered faster as she remembered the sight of the burly Gryffindor standing above her, wand out, eyes devoid of emotion. She cried for a bit. Conny hadn't wanted any of this; she'd thought her time at Hogwarts would be fun and exciting, not life-threatening. You-Know-Who had been defeated. Why would bad things not stop happening? Surely he wasn't… back?

No, she thought- people would know if the most evil dark wizard was back. He'd be killing people, not sitting in Hogmeade, calm as you like, running a potions shop. That man was someone else, who also had a motive to get inside Hogwarts… someone smart.

The door of the room, a terribly modern sliding-glass affair, opened with a light swoosh of air and three people stepped in. A thickly-set man with cropped hair, dressed for combat, a kindly-looking spindly man with wild grey hair and a monocle, and, Conny' heart leapt: Professor Killory.

"Professor?" She asked tentatively, her voice oddly hoarse, but she couldn't remember shouting. Killory, a mixture of affection and discomfort apparent on her face, stepped forward.

"Conyeri." She replied, softly. "I am… infinitely sorry that this has happened to you… I have been foolish."

The thick man muttered something that sounded like 'told you so', but Killory silenced him with a withering look. "I should explain. Darden was in favour of erasing your memory, but… the situation has changed. You have performed admirably, but things are too dangerous now. Avery knows your face; he has been acting against you for a long time. We were so close…"

What on earth was she talking about? At least, Conny thought, she could put a name to the man in Dogweed & Deathcap. Avery. The name tickled her memories distantly.

"Perhaps we should discuss this around some tea?" The spindly other man asked hopefully. Killory nodded, and the man conjured an antique wooden table and a hotchpotch silverware tea set. Once cups of milky, sugary tea had been passed out (Killory, disdainfully, took hers black), and the burly man, Darden, had helped Conny sit up in bed, the explanation began.

"There are, of course, things I cannot tell you at this point." Killory began. "But I can give you a very vague outline. My superiors would flay me alive otherwise."

She motioned to a brass design on the bedposts that Conny hadn't noticed while lying down. "Very few people know, and even fewer understand the work we do here. You are familiar with prophecies?"

Conny nodded, remembering reading a short chapter in her astronomy textbook comparing the predictive power of prophecies verses stars. "Very good. Now, hundreds of prophecies are made every day, by seers around the world. Some of them predict what the seer is going to eat that night, others foresee the destruction of the world as we know it."

Killory paused for breath as a train went by. "Our jobs- my job, especially, is to make sure that nobody meddles with prophecies, trying to change the future after hearing one of them in which the outcome is not to their liking."

"In this case, the prophecy is of paramount importance- perhaps the most important prophecy of the modern era. It concerns a boy whose name I am sure you recognise- Harry Potter."

Darden scowled and the spindly man bowed his head. Killory continued. "A follower of the Dark Lord, a man named Avery, has heard a fragment of the prophecy from his master and has been doing his own investigating. He has come to a conclusion that he can shift the odds by destroying several key figures attending Hogwarts at the moment, one of whom is your classmate, William Weasley. We don't know exactly what Bill will do related to Harry in the future, but it seems to be important enough that Avery is targeting him."

"Why not just… take him out?" Conny asked bluntly, thinking this all sounded very iffy.

Darden chuckled. "Wish we could, lass, but the rules dunnee work that way."

"We cannot interfere directly." Killory explained, "Else we'd become targeted by either the light or the dark. If we were to just remove Avery from the picture, we'd risk inflaming the Death Eaters against ourselves."

It made sense, Conny grudgingly thought. "But why… what exactly do you do?"

"In general, or just on this particular case?"

"This case."

"I had hopes to instruct the students on the use of Diligence, to hope they can see past whatever charms Avery will use when he strikes… and the Dueling Competition was to try and equip students with the best chance possible of defeating him or any followers he has managed to accrue in a non-lethal manner."

Followers. That word made her shiver. The blank look in Douglas' and Rissa's eyes… the man- Avery- hiding in Hogsmeade, controlling them like a puppeteer… but what was he planning? What did it all lead up to?

"Why… why can't Dumbledore just go and deal with Avery?"

"It is not his place. And Avery would be expecting it- he'll have great methods in place to escape if Albus ever did come knocking." Killory frowned, shifting her weight. "You've rather… well, you got as far as I'd hoped a student would, but strayed further than was safe. I am fully to blame for your injuries… such things happen when you do work as dangerous as this, but the Ethics Tribunal cannot accept the death of an innocent child as means to the end of this mission."

"More tea, Aleathias?" The thin man asked.

"No thank you, Thynn." She declined the skittish wizard's offer. Rubbing her temples, she closed her eyes and appeared the think deeply for a number of moments. "I have a great deal to ask of you, Conyeri."

Something horribly dreadful swilled in Conny's stomach when she heard this. She wanted to be normal. She didn't care for prophecies or renegade Death Eaters… she had just wanted to satisfy her curiosity, and look where it had brought her! She silently swore never to try uncovering strange plots against the school again.

"…What?" She asked finally, when all the adults were stuck as to how they should approach a child with such a request. "If it will get… Avery to stop trying to kill me, I'm game."

Thynn let out a whimper at the word 'kill' and clutched at his cup of tea nervously. Killory, however, was not the sort to be cowed by such ideas.

"Very good. I will have to… I will have to lie to my bosses." She looked uncharacteristically vexed. "I honestly believe in this case, in its worth. The Tribunal are opposed, but I will take it through to correction, or I'm not a very good Arbiter, am I?"

Darden sighed and crossed his muscled arms. "If you slip up, Aleitheas… you're job and your memory are at stake."

"I know." She said calmly. "Thynn, you will go and inform the tribune that we're wiping the girl's memory and placing her back out of harm's way. Tell them I'll arrange travel back to Hogwarts and that I will carry the case on at a much more secretive level until by tenure has expired at the school. Tell them… tell them I have a second approach that I can use."

Thynn nodded quickly and left through the door, his floaty robes trailing behind him as he disappeared from sight. "Darden." Killory said, turning to him. "I need you back in Hogsmeade with your team. Could you get surveillance on the Hospital Wing and inside Avery's rooms?"

Darden considered it. "Death Eater's personal rooms? Easy. Inside Hogwarts… I'd need your help for that."

"You have it." He bowed and dissaparated, leaving grey mist where his feet had been. Killory, freed of the other two, came and sat on the end of Conny's bed, her face a rare picture of hesitation. "Are you sure, Conyeri? I will do my best to see that you aren't hurt, but… I cannot guarantee it."

Conny had found her wand on the nightstand and was rubbing her thumb over it thoughtfully. "Everything comes with its own risk. I don't want something terrible happening to anyone, least of all Bill, or Harry Potter, or anyone Avery is targeting, but equally I want to be safe myself. A certain measure of balance is involved."

Killory chuckled. "What a Ravenclaw thing to say."

"I am a Ravenclaw." Conny shrugged. "Were you in Slytherin when you were at Hogwarts?"

"Yes… I'm afraid that I grew up with Mr. Avery, and he was not a pleasant character then, either. No, I was on the lighter side of Slytherin- sly, perhaps a bit cruel and particularly driven to achieve my goals, but never evil. I have always believed in balance, as you said- just not so much as to ignore a chance to upset it."

Conny thought this a sensible attitude to have. What was it Rissa had said when she'd asked when her brother had been sorted into Ravenclaw, but she into Slytherin? _He does not believe that any means to achieve an end is appropriate_. She remembered Rissa's gaunt face and the madness in her eyes as Avery had forced his way into her head to get information.

Wait- forced into her head? "Professor… how does Avery control the students?"

"He does not control them all the time, like the Imperius curse- that's one of the Unforgivable Curses, you'll learn about them later on- but instead he is… clever. I must concede that his plan is quite flawless."

"Except me."

"Except you." Killory smiled. "Avery is using short bursts of incredibly powerful Legilimency, which is magic of the mind similar but more potent than Diligence. He can effectively invade the mind of children like Douglas, whose body and mind were both vulnerable at the time."

"The tainted potions!" Conny said loudly, causing the people in the painting to jump slightly. "That's what they were for."

"Indeed." Killory said sourly. "I tried to insist that Severus- Professor Snape- buy from a different apothecary- that was Plan A-, but he wouldn't hear it, and I cannot reveal my true motive without compromising the mission." She frowned. "Severus and myself were at school together- different years, mind you- and he never liked me. Then again, he only really liked Lily Evans, and look at where that got her."

Disdain curled at Killory's lip as she shook herself from the past. "Never mind that. Now, how is your back?"

"Painful." Conny admitted, reaching a hand around under the simple nightdress she was wearing. She felt a mill's worth of bandages covering a painful, raised line that went from one side of her back to the other, flat on the right side and trailing upwards towards her left shoulder, with small, humped lines all along it, like someone had stitched it up.

"You were lucky that Douglas Ohsem isn't a particularly gifted student, or you'd be in much worse shape." Killory commented. "He didn't have the skill to perform a killing curse, so Avery opted for a different, less skill-based spell- _Incisera_, the cutting curse."

"Feels more like the gouging curse, if you ask me…" Conny muttered, her back throbbing. "Can't you just… magically heal it?"

"It's a powerful dark curse. It doesn't just 'heal'." Killory said. Thynn returned, looking uneasy.

"The Tribune said he wants to do the obliviating himself."

"Circe." Killory swore unprofessionally. "Wait. Conyeri, do you have any phials?"

Conny nodded and pulled a couple of clean ones from the inside pocket of her robes, which were hung up by her bed. "This will feel a little odd, but trust me… I've done this before."

Killory took her wand and touched it to Conny's temple. She felt something like a tendril in her mind, and then a slimy tugging. She saw Killory pulling silvery thread out of her head and pushing it hurriedly down into the phials, where it convalesced and meandered about listlessly. "What are those?" she said squeamishly.

"Your memories. Well, copies of them, for storage. Simpler than repeating everything. Now, the Tribune is a piece of work, but he won't harm you. A memory charm is disconcerting. You'll find yourself somewhere without knowing how you got there. Get dressed."

Conny did as asked, a little embarrassed that Thynn and Killory were in the room, and soon was ready.

They were walking out of the room when a great rumbling seemed to growl from down below.

"Is that the time?" Thynn said, eyes wide. "I ought to be off- the Littleton matter still needs sorting out."

"Thank you for your help, Temeritus." Killory said quietly. Temeritus Thynn left quickly, like a ghost, making no sound.

"What was that?" Conny asked.

"I'll tell you later. You're going to forget this, anyway."

They entered a large, dank room filled with damp red cushioned seats and wooden tables. A stern, bald man with a bulbous nose was waiting with his associates, wand in hand.

"So pleased you saw sense, Aleitheas." He said in a voice that was very like mashed potato, all smooth in one place with a nasty lump in another. He raised his wand and said in a low, threatening voice: "_Obliviate!_"

-0-

Conny woke, for the second time in a short period, somewhere she didn't recognize. The furnishing was dark but airy, with a window that inconceivably showed Salisbury cathedral on a sunny winter's day. She felt… missing.

Thinking she'd been on a bed, Conny started when she rolled over and fell off a cushy armchair.

The resulting clattering alerted Killory to her wakingness. The professor poked her head into the room and smiled knowingly.

Bewildered, Conny blinked several times. "What… what happened? I was… I was in the Great Hall… Tilda Tirias was winning, then… black."

Killory brandished a small tube of something volatile and silvery. Conny frowned. "That's not a potion, is it? Because… there's something… potions are bad."

Killory, fishing the silver stuff out of the phial, came over and touched it to Conny's forehead. A seeping feeling of cerebular penetration made her shiver, and it was as though a muggle lunch lady had just dolloped a big, unrefined lump of memories into the blank plate of her mind.

Images swam about, and Conny, overcome, took a moment to sort them all out. "Oh… ah… urghh!" She groaned as everything fell into place, her vision swimming. "You didn't say just how uncomfortable that would be!"

"Sorry." Killory said absently, adjusting her robes. "Right. Now, will you come into my office so I can explain my plan?"

"If my back will let me." Conny complained. Killory offered her arm, and Conny took it with a grasping lunge out of the chair, pain biting into her back like an angry crup. "Oh, Merlin- argh!"

Killory helped her sympathetically into a chair opposite her desk. "I'd offer you a pain palliation potion, but I assume you would not take it."

"True." Conny winced, getting comfortable. "I feel like an old person, all crippled."

"You're young and springy, you'll heal."

"Springy?"

Killory dismissed the incredulous question with a wave of her hand. "Now… how good of an actor are you?"

"I played Oliver in the London Borough of Hammersmith and Fulham Theatre Association's Under 10s Drama Club production of the same name." Conny said very quickly, remembering the days when she'd been free to pursue such interests. Killory smiled wryly, but her expression turned serious.

"The cover story is that Douglas Ohsem was very sick and feverish with confusitis. He shouldn't have been at the competition, but he snuck out when Madam Pomfrey was tending to someone else. In all the excitement, he felt so ill and befuddled that he thought he was in a duel with you and, also due to his ailment, used the wrong spell. You were taken to St. Mungo's, where you spent three days recovering and are now coming back to school to catch up on work and collect the homework you need to do over Easter."

Conny nodded; it seemed plausible. "Okay."

"Now, what you need to do is, firstly, avoid any of the sick people that Avery has access to. Secondly, you need to find out when he's planning on striking, and thirdly, you need to somehow defeat and incapacitate him."

"All the while pretending I'm still a curious and lucky first- year."

"Aye." Killory nodded vigourously. "Think you can do that?"

"Reckon I can try."

Killory checked the clock. "It's around two in the afternoon on Monday."

Conny groaned. "Double Potions."

"Give no reason for Severus to think you weak, then!" Killory said. "Go to his lesson."

"But, Professor- I can barely walk!"

Killory grunted. "Key word, _barely_. Barely walking is still walking. Off you go, Miss DeHayersae. Oh- and detention with me, Thursday evening for… something. So we can talk."

Conny nodded. Killory helped her up and did a few pain relief spells on her back that sort of took the edge off the feeling of being sliced in two. "Professor?"

"Yes?" Killory replied.

"If… if this doesn't work…" Conny mumbled, her stomach full of slugs, "What will happen?"

"It isn't anyone's business knowing." Killory answered with a graceful shrug. "I have seen lives equally ruined by a prophecy coming true or a prophecy being thwarted. Fate is a funny thing. _Quis adveho, adveho semper, _as the Coteriate would say."

"Kwiss addyvo sempur?" Conny asked.

"All the best and oldest things have latin mottos. It means: 'what comes, comes always'."

"What does the Hogwarts motto mean, then?"

"_Draco Dormiens Nunquam Tilitandus. _'Never tickle a sleeping dragon'."

Conny frowned. "What a silly motto."

"Hogwarts is a silly place." Killory said sagely. "Now, along with you. Don't worry, Conyeri. It will all go right in the end."

Conny tried to agree, but inside she wondered: right for whom?


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen: The British Wizarding Literature Festival

In the end, Conny did go home for Easter. After everything that had happened, she wanted desperately to be back with her family. She'd asked Corfax if he wanted to come to the British Wizarding Literature Festival with her, because Lucy was out in Egypt visiting cousins and Jonmarc was… well, Jonmarc. Sulky and withdrawn. She'd asked Killory if she could go, and she'd agreed, as long as Conny sent an owl each week updating her on anything that happened (an example would be: Dear Prof. Killory, was attacked in Boots by two Death Eaters, weather is lovely, love Conny)(This didn't happen).

Corfax enjoyed reading, but he enjoyed wizard comics even more. He'd subscribed to several quarterlies and annuals, and he was itching to find more. Conny supposed that as a muggle, he'd never had access to such things, and wanted to learn as much as he could.

The DeHayersae caravan was a grubby single-axel on the outside, but a spectacular Victorian house on the inside. As they travelled on the muggle roads down to Dorset (Conny's mum drove the old, battered land rover she'd owned before marrying David), Conny and Corfax were illegally inside the caravan, splayed out on the bearskin rug in front of the roaring gothic fireplace, books surrounding them. A large, thick parchment map of the BWLiF lay nearby, showing the location of all the different stalls and tents. The Wizarding Wireless even had a whole cluster of tents, and the long-running panel show, I'm Sorry I Haven't a Curse, was recording a special episode there. Not that anyone Conny's age would admit to listening to Station Four, the speaking station, but she was excited for that, too. Elizabeth's foot was heavy on the accelerator as she imagined meeting Rhonsus Carimad and getting a signed copy of his new thriller. His main character was a handsome Auror with a mysterious past who was caught between his duty to the Ministry and his eternal love of a muggle woman. Conny privately (very privately, if she wanted to avoid being shouted at) thought that they were pretty boring and formulaic books, but kept her thoughts to herself.

She was more interested in other things. Conny wanted to learn how to write wizarding poetry- and also the art of transcribing spells onto parchment. She knew that you needed some knowledge in ancient runes to make it work properly, but it didn't stop her being interested. Oh, and she was also going to an essay-writing workshop run by Salem Institute's Professor of Transfiguration, Staffordson Carmichael, to get ahead in lessons, and to a seminar on the Literature of the Modern Witch. She'd thought of staying at Hogwarts over the holidays, but honestly the pressure of knowing that half of the students there were zombie mind-slaves to a crazy free Death Eater living in a comfy flat in the village next door was taking enough toll on her mind as it was.

They were speeding along the M4 when Conny stretched and turned over on the rug, her stomach growling. "Lunch?" She asked Corfax, who had his nose in a book called _The Development of Wizarding Government_ (Conny looked at the foot-thick tome with a shudder. She couldn't even _read _the tiny, thick print. Corfax was using a magnifying charm).

"What's going?"

Conny shuffled over to the kitchen and opened the fridge. "How about… Ham and cheese toastie?"

"Make it sound tastier." He joked, turning the page.

Conny giggled. "Sorry, sir. The main event today is Home-farm churned extra-mature crumbly cheddar cheese, topped with mouthwatering wafer-thin juicy Parma ham in a charcoal-seared Chiabatta bun, lightly dusted with mill flour."

"Excellent." Corfax nodded and licked his lips. Conny went about making lunch, humming to herself as she worked. Her back hurt terribly, but by now she was used to the pain, as though someone was enjoying making long, hard lines across her middle back with a white-hot poker. She hadn't told anyone about it yet. She felt… marked in some way, like she was set apart from the other, carefree first-years. Not even Lucy knew, and Lucy was her best friend. After Killory had released her, she'd stuck to the cover story to the word. Still, there had been a fair amount of hubbub that surrounded her after the incident. Many people had come up to her offering their best wishes, some apologising for Douglas' behaviour. It was refreshing, being the centre of attention, but also very scary. Conny wished at every possible instant that none of it had ever happened.

"Voila." She clattered the plates of toastie down in front of them by the fire, matching salt- and pepper- shakers floating behind her. The brilliant thing about living with one or more wizard parents was that the Ministry couldn't be sure that she'd activated the trace herself. She did have to be careful not to use magic at the same time as David, though, because then they'd suspect something since her mother was a muggle.

"Thank you, waitress." Corfax said, tucking in. He cursed through a mouthful of molten cheese. "Ptolemy! That's _hot!_"

"No duh." Conny said. "Hufflepuffs…"

"Don't break this down to House!" He said indignantly. "There are loads I could say about _Ravenclaws!_"

"Of course there is." Conny scoffed. "We're swotty, we're insufferably intelligent, we let our minds overtake our common sense…"

"And Hufflepuffs are dull, plodding, blissfully ignorant, overly unbiased chumps."

"Yup."

"Do you really think the House you're in influences who you are?" Corfax asked.

Conny thought about it. "Well… I think its half and half. You get sorted into your House based on a mixture of what you're like already and what the sorting hat thinks you'll be like. But then again, the House you get put in certainly influences who you grow into…"

"What if you change, though?" He asked.

"I don't know. Do you get re-sorted? Say, if you were sorted into Gryffindor, then you became really cunning and sly and devious, would you have to move to Slytherin?"

"I don't think so. I think sorting's for life. I reckon that things like that don't happen, because the sorting hat knows exactly what you're like. It wouldn't make that mistake."

"And I think that some houses overlap." Conny said thoughtfully, sitting cross-legged with her plate balanced between her knees. "Like, Ravenclaw and Slytherin share intelligence, but different aspects of it. And Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are both very fair and just… I suppose the lines are a bit blurred."

Corfax agreed and finished his food with a small, satisfied burp. "I wish I was smarter."

Conny blinked. Where had that come from? "You are smart, Fax."

He shook his shaggy head of blondish curls ruefully. "No, I'm not. I wish I could understand our classes better. I always feel like I'm catching up."

"All of us feel like that. For a lot of first-years, it's the first time we've been to school. We know nothing, really, about magic or anything, in fact, so it will obviously feel like there's too much to learn."

"The way you say it makes it sound so sensible…" he moaned.

"I _am_ sensible." She said, telling a big lie. Her back twinged as though the scar knew she felt guilty. "Well, most of the time." She amended.

"Fair enough." He said. "I'm bored. Wanna play gobstones?"

"With the caravan doing a jig on the silly muggle roads?" Conny asked incredulously.

"Muggle roads aren't silly." He frowned, insulted. "They're a great invention. The Romans made them."

"Roman muggles made them. Roman wizards and witches were too busy making world-changing discoveries about magic."

"Shuddup!" He threw a leaflet at her. "I wonder where we are?"

"Somewhere." Conny said sagely.

About an hour later, they were still travelling and both children were terribly bored, having played all the exploding snap that they could take, eaten all the ice cream in the caravan's fridge and quizzed each other for a good half an hour on Eosir's (damned) Constant. Once they were absolutely sure that they hated wizarding physics with a passion to outstrip all others, they set about doing other things.

Conny went to lie down soon after they finished drawing caricatures of all the teachers. Corfax was quite a talented artist, once he put his mind to it. She made a mental note to share this with her dad, because he actually had a T.O.A.D in Magical Art and would relish helping Corfax. Her back was hurting, so she turned out the lights in her room and cast a cooling charm to counteract the itching and burning that the curse left behind as a little gift, lying face-down on the bed with her shirt off. She thought about trying some of Killory's pain relief spells, but even as it crossed her mind she knew that those kinds of magic were way beyond her ability. The first-years may have an extensive knowledge of jinxes, hexes and other such spells from the dueling competition, but they couldn't really cast them very powerfully at all. They learned them by rote and practiced them until they worked; there was no flair, no originality or greater awareness in the spellwork.

Conny frowned thinking of this. She hoped that they'd address that when they were older, because she certainly didn't like the idea of re-using the same, boring spells all the time.

Things began to come together in her mind as they made the transition from the motorway to smaller roads. The dueling competition was Killory's idea, therefore the prophecy police were getting something out of it. But what? She thought hard. A school full of students with both knowledge of Diligence and offensive and defensive dueling was a school… a school ready for an attack. A school trained to react to danger.

The danger of Avery.

So, she thought, Avery was going to attack the school. But how? He couldn't do it with his small group of mind-controlled sick students- the teachers would put a stop to that posthaste. So he was going to attack when the students and teachers were exposed, and when tensions and emotions were running high enough that people would overlook small details. Somewhere outside the castle, then, because Conny knew first-hand that Hogwarts had a lot it could throw at an attacker.

She froze. Everything fell into place like the last piece of a puzzle box had just been inserted. Quidditch. That was it. Rissa had asked about it: so had Douglas, and they were both under Avery's control at the time. Avery was going to strike at a Quidditch match, and one where the whole school was likely to attend. The last match of the season- Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw, the last weekend in May. Conny's heart caught in her throat. For a brief moment, she congratulated herself on figuring it out without much help from Killory, but then, with a wave of dismay, realised how little time this gave her to figure out a solution to the problem. With Killory under watch from her bosses and Conny supposedly with no memory of her snooping, the task of somehow averting this plot was… surely impossible?

Screwing her eyes shut, Conny was about to get up when her door flew open and an excited Corfax ran in. "Conny, I can see the se- Merlin, what happened to your back!"

She rolled over quickly and pulled the covers up to hide herself (not that, at twelve, she had much to hide. If anything, Corfax had larger breasts than her). "Fax! Learn to knock!"

He stammered an apology, his watery eyes wide. "Is that- is that where Douglas Ohsem's curse hit you?"

"Yes." She said quietly, feeling it prickle uncomfortably. "It's still healing."

Corfax swore in muggle and averted his eyes. "I- I'm, sorry. I was just excited. I've never seen the sea before."

"Really?"

"No. My family didn't travel." He said. "Does it hurt?"

Conny scowled, thinking she'd changed the subject well enough. "Yes." She said curtly.

With all the decorum and sensitivity of a twelve-year-old boy, Corfax asked: "Can I see it?"

"No!" She shouted, appalled. "Corfax, it's not something you should have seen in the first place!"

"Yes, but now I have-"

"No! The answer will always be no! Get out of my room!"

She raised her wand and slammed the door in his face, embarrassment and shame burning her face. At least it isn't lightning-shaped, she thought humorlessly, or they might think I'm the next saviour.

This thought did little to cheer her up, and by the time they'd checked in at the campsite that the Ministry had set up for people attending the BWLiF, she was in a foul and stormy mood that didn't at all match the warm, sunny, clear weather that she emerged into, bleary-eyed, when they'd finally sorted everything out.

"Why the grump, Conny?" David asked as he struggled with the awning. "Oh, sod this- _Locomotor Awning_!"

The awning assembled itself slightly haphazardly, because they were missing one of the poles, and Elizabeth scowled at her husband. "You should have put it up by hand! That's the fun of it!"

"That's meant to be the fun bit?" He said incredulously. "The fun bit is all the rest!"

They did the usual husband-wife mock-argument flirting for a bit longer while Conny looked around the campsite, Corfax a polite pace and a half behind her. They were right by the coast, a long, shingle beach just down a small duck-boarded walkway through the grass. They were slightly early, but the pitches had already begun to fill with an offensive array of tents. Conny's caravan was very muggle; it was from back before the war, see, and you had to be covert then, but some of these new ones! There was a family of Asian wizards who took what must have been a small pagoda out of a Nikey sports bag and proceeded to enlarge it until it was as big as possible without straying onto the next pitch; a Scottish wizard with a plaited ginger beard sat outside his castle playing the bagpipes loudly for a gaggle of interested children; and one odd little group of short, wiry Indian-looking fellows had erected a circle of wigwams, and were sitting cross-legged around a central bonfire, over which was roasting a whole pig.

Wizards, Conny snorted: crazy, crazy people. Especially compared to muggles.

She ended up following the path down to the beach, leaving Corfax with his parents to work the barbecue (because Elizabeth wasn't that sure as to how it worked, excusable, because she was a woman, and the barbecue would usually be the man's job when camping in the muggle world). She skipped stones unsuccessfully into the sea, flinching every time because her back hurt. She satisfied herself by just throwing stones about, cursing at them in all the cusswords a twelve-year-old knows. She cursed at Killory, mostly, for her silly little time-police and their silly little mission to stop the end of the world. They could go stuff their mission into a dragon's bum, for all she cared.

But, Conny thought sadly, she _did _care. She had to stop Avery, or she wasn't safe at Hogwarts any more. And if Hogwarts wasn't safe for her, there was only home left. And home was boring. You didn't get feasts at home. You didn't get crazy professors or cute upperclassmen or Lucy or Jonmarc at home.

"What have those stones ever done to you?" A voice asked. Conny's head snapped to look. She'd wandered far from the campsite, over to the other side of the bay.

The speaker was a boy a couple of years older than herself. He was rather tall and skinny, with neatly parted dark brown hair and a very posh voice. He was wearing a loose white shirt tucked into a pair of tight trousers with braces.

"Nothing." She said defensively, on guard. At Hogwarts, you could be sure that there was no danger to you from older boys (though not from homicidal zombified Quidditch captains, as it turned out), but she wasn't there any more, and she'd been brought up in London. He shrugged and chuckled.

"What brings you down here, then?"

"Camping."

"Ah." He nodded. "And you'd be one of the… hippies in the field across the bay? You certainly don't dress like one, and your accent is from London."

Conny took mild offense at her family being called hippies, but from here, the pagodas and castles did look distinctly odd. "Yes, I'm staying over there, but we aren't hippies."

"Why on earth do you have so many bouncy castles up, then?" he asked.

Conny translated that into wizard and tried with all her brain to remember what a bouncy castle was. In the end, she just nodded at him and shrugged.

"So, why the angry stone-throwing?" He asked conversationally. "I'm Cameron, by the way."

"Conny." She nodded at him. "I, um… well, it's complicated."

"My daddy says anything you think is complicated isn't." Cameron said. Conny didn't understand that.

"Well… I love my school, but some of the people there are… really mean to me. They make me want to stop going, but my friends make me want to stay." She kept it as vague as possible.

Cameron smiled knowledgably. "School is always like that. I myself attend Eton… of course, I dearly enjoy it, but sometimes I hate it, too."

"Pardon?" She said, racking her brains. Eton, Eton… where had she heard that before?

"I mean, school will never be perfect. You've got to be strong and keep your pecker up. Otherwise you'll just keep running away and never have good friends. Sacrifices and that bunkum."

He was right. "You're right. I'm just being cowardly."

"That's not the word I'd use." He said. "Want to go fishing?"

"Pardon?" Conny said, the non-sequiteur throwing her off-balance.

"Fishing. You hippies do that too, right? Pole, bit of rope, hook, that malarkay?"

"I know what fishing is." She said. "Why would I want to go fishing?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

His reply made Conny angrier. "Don't answer a question with another question."

"Why not?"

"Because it doesn't… it doesn't make a conversation better."

"Right." He said, holding his hands out. "So you don't want to go fishing? It isn't like I'm doing anything now. Daddy brought us down here for the Easter holidays, but it's hardly an interesting place."

"Well, I am." She said hotly. "I've got to go back to my parents now. They'll be worrying about me."

"That's nice." He said, smiling. "Well, if you ever do feel like fishing, I'm here all week."

"Right." She turned on her heel and walked off. She had half a mind to turn back and apologise, but felt far too headstrong. She walked briskly back along the beach, looking behind her to see Cameron just standing, gormless, looking at her even when she was just a dark blur on the shingle.

Conny ate the slightly burnt burger that Corfax and her mum had managed to cook between them quietly, observing the arriving magical folk. The actual festival was spread out over a couple of fields around the corner, further away from Cameron and the muggles. The fields were covered with rows of booths, stalls and larger tents as well for bigger audiences. Wizards in bright blue robes bearing the wand and book symbol of the British Brotherhood of Wizard Wordsmiths, who ran the whole festival, were fluttering around making their final preparations. Conny couldn't be sure and certainly didn't tell her mother, but she thought she saw the silver pointed hat the Rhonsus Carimad favoured in amongst the throng.

"Well, that was excellent!" David said enthusiastically, beaming at the slightly melted barbecue with a bit of guilt. "I propose we do something fun!"

"It's been a long journey, David… maybe we should have an early night."

"Nonsense!" David grinned. "Been sitting around all day! We should do something!"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at her husband's childish behaviour. "What would you have us do?"

"We could go around and peek in people's tents." Corfax suggested, seeing the one on the pitch next to them open up into what looked to be a Canadian wooden lodge. "That never ceases to amaze me."

"Nah, tents're boring." David said. "Oh, I know! Liz, let's roast marshmallows!"

She muttered 'such a city boy' and went into the caravan to get them. She emerged with a huge packet of fluffy multi-coloured marshmallows, a tray of biscuits and a big bar of Cadbury's dairy milk. David stuck his nose up at that and said that muggle chocolate tasted weird, so Conny and Corfax were sent to the small campsite shop for some Honeydukes' Best. They waited patiently behind a fat, old wizard carrying a chicken under one arm and trying to buy some tobacco for his pipe while the pimply, teenaged assistant flailed around for the right brand.

"I don't understand why anyone would smoke tobacco." Corfax said. "Wizards seem to do a lot of smoking. More than muggles."

"You have those little white tampon-things, though, don't you?" Conny said, getting her terminology mixed up.

"Cigarettes."

"What's the point of them? They break after one use. With a pipe, at least you can use it again. And we don't just smoke tobacco; there's loads of crazy things that wizards use. Where do you think the odd-coloured smoke comes from? You muggles have siggerettes that puff purple?"

"No." Corfax said, his eyes studying the small, grungy jars full of pipe-fillers that lined the wall behind the corner. "We don't. But whatever it is, it isn't good for you."

"True, but wizards are resilient. I think they heal away any damage that it does."

"We can do that?"

"Not sure. I read it somewhere." She paid for the chocolate and they exited through the small, dirty door. "Besides, wizards live to be really old anyway."

"How old?"

"Well, Dumbledore is over a hundred, I think, and he's still going strong. I reckon, the stronger your magic is, the longer you live for."

Corfax looked glum. "I'm dead tomorrow, then."

"Don't be such a pansy." She said, breaking a block of chocolate off for him. "None of us are any good. We're only first-years."

"Liar. I saw you and Clarissa and Ralphus and Lucy at the dueling- and Bill, also- you're all amazing. I was beaten hands-down in the first round."

Conny shook her head. "Offensive magic? Hexes, jinxes, all that? Is that what you think makes a witch or wizard powerful?"

"Yes." He said. "Look at the two most powerful wizards in the world. Dumbledore and You-Know-Who."

"They're not powerful because they do amazing magic. They do amazing magic _because _they're powerful. It's not… it's not just ability. It's meaning. If you have great meaning or emotion, that makes you a strong wizard. If you fight for something, if you have a dream ahead of you, that makes you a strong wizard. If that weren't the case, any fool with a wand could blow the world to bits."

Corfax, stunned at her truthful words, stayed silent and munched on the chocolate as they walked back. Conny realised that he'd never been told what she'd just said by his parents when he was little, being muggle-born. He'd found out he was a wizard and thought that he had some sort of infinite, amazing power at his disposal. It was probably best that he learned the limitations of magic- and of the heart, too, she thought. He wanted power. He wanted fame and renown and something more than his old life had given him. She was right to expose him to the harsh truth now, lest he hold onto that desire through his school life and try to obtain it once he was a full wizard.

She perked up a little when they made s'mores and ate them until their fingers were gooey with chocolate. The sun began to set and the world was a brilliant orange, but Conny never felt safe at sunset or twilight. It reminded her too much of the dream. She'd worked out that it was her dream- it belonged to her- but since Avery had been about, she'd been having it a lot more often. He didn't cause it, but he got into her mind just enough to make it worse.

She pushed grim thoughts of Avery and the mess back at school out of her mind and relaxed, cradled in the knowledge that she was free, at least for now. The conversation was light and jovial as a thin dusting of stars ushered night in slowly, with great care, as though teaching a small child. Conny thought that she saw Venus in an interesting orbit, but stopped herself thinking about Astronomy before she killed herself. Nearby, a family with young children had lit tall candles as thick as Conny's thigh, which burned with a dancing ring of blue flames, occasionally launching a crackling firework into the lazy air. Chatter ran through the campsite, a low, pleasing thrumming of voices, punctuated here and there by laughs or shouts from far away. The moon was out and proud, a silver badge of light amongst her tiny, starry cousins, peeking down onto the earth as though to say it's all right, just be calm.

Conny busied herself writing down these beautiful thoughts on a red leather-bound notebook she'd always had but seldom used. Her handwriting was still abysmal, she thought with dismay, but at least the words she was writing were pretty. When the barbecue's coals began crumbling to ash, she excused herself and went out along the beach again, this time without shoes. The upper layer of shingle and broken shells was painful, but once she was past that, the cool sea lapping at her ankles and the wet sand between her toes, she felt wonderful. She stayed there for maybe an hour, occasionally writing, but mostly watching, stock-still, a tiny, lonesome figure against the enormous ocean. It was wonderful and peaceful. Nothing shattered the expansive silence formed by the gentle swish of the waves, the rustle of the marram grass in the dunes behind her, the soft whine and low bells of anchored boats in the bay.

When Conny walked back to the caravan, she felt as though she was floating far above the world. She dried her feet and got into bed, falling asleep bathed in a soft finger of moonlight.


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen: The Catch

"Of course, where this path goes, is anybody's guess…" Rhonsus winked at the enthralled crowd. He'd finished a talk on the planning process of his latest book and was settling down to sign copies. Conny took the opportunity to slip away.

The fields were exploding with colour. Any idea of secrecy seemed to have been thrown away in favour of the jollity of the festival. She passed booths outfitted with real Persian throws, with large, squat and ornate multi-stemmed Hookahs around which wizards and witches lounged and read books or magazines while they smoked. Many of these reading booths were dotted around, but most of the fields were taken up with stalls and infrequently tents. The idea was that booths were arranged by genre- non-fiction, adventure, fantasy, and the like, but the race for space had made the arrangement more chaotic than that. This resulted in making the map, which had been printed a week before the event, totally obsolete, and everything rather difficult to find.

Conny strolled around with a bag of Every Flavour Beans, taking in the sights. There was a dark cloud hovering over the far corner of the field, so she decided to take a look. A tall, handsome wizard with a pale face appeared in front of her. "My dear, it would be my pleasure to welcome you to our exhibit today." He bent down on one knee and kissed her hand, his teeth grazing gently against her skin. Freaked out, Conny pulled her hand back towards herself and walked quickly past him. Under the cloud, which made the sound of rolling thunder and lightning every so often, everything was dark, but with an ethereal lightness to it as well. The people working the stalls were young, attractive and pale. Very pale.

"Welcome." They said in smooth voices. Conny looked at the books they were selling, under the banner of dark romance, and shivered when one of the assistants grinned at her, seeing fangs. Vampires.

She turned to leave, but a soft voice from the stall nearest her urged her to stay. She paused and looked over to the speaker, a girl who looked no older than a seventh-year, with long dark hair and a complexion that most teenagers would kill for. She beckoned with a long, thin finger, and Conny obediently trailed over to her stall, as though her feet were moving without her brain's involvement.

"Good afternoon." The girl said in a low voice. "Would you be interested in browsing for a time?"

Conny looked down at the books. They had uniformly dark covers; some velvet, others leather, gilt-edged or bound by thin chains. Their lettering was often stamped silver, with thin, skeletal script that flowed across the pages like a web. She briefly read a sentence and felt a prickle down the back of her neck.

"This… this isn't really my genre." She said quietly, avoiding the girl's eyes. "I should go."

A cold, velvety hand fell upon hers. "Stay." Said the girl.

"Yes, stay." Said another assistant come beside her. "Why don't you come into the storage tent? I'm sure we could find something further orientated towards your… tastes."

Conny shivered, by the girl's hand pulled her closer. She was about to stumble forward when another, larger, warmer hand gripped her shoulder and pulled her from their grip.

"Shame on ya'll!" Said a deep American voice. "She's clearly underage!"

"She looks old enough." The girl snarled, showing her white fangs.

"She looks no older'n my daughter! Shame, shame! Come back into the festival proper, young lady, away from these no-good charmers!"

Thankful for his intervention, Conny let the American man take her out from underneath the cloud, into the blinding sun. He let go of her arm, where he'd been supporting her (for some reason, she'd become quite weak-kneed during her encounter with the vampires), and she got a good look at him. He was well into his sixties, with greyish white hair in a long ponytail down his back. His pointed wizard's hat was dark green, with a cluster of rooster feathers sticking out of it. Conny blinked, noticing his round spectacles and stubby nose. He was Professor Carmichael, head of Transfiguration at Salem Institute in America!

"Mighty glad I got to ya before they had their way, little missus." He said, sweeping his hat off and bowing formally to her. "Treacherous creatures, vampires. Best avoid 'um wherever possible."

"I think I just found that out." She laughed meekly. "Professor, thank you for saving me back there."

He blushed redder than his already red skin. "Aw, shucks, I save damsels in distress all the time, honey. But no problem, either way."

"Why are they allowed to have a stall there?" she asked.

"Oh, those are the nice ones. Registered with your Ministry 'un all. They ain't supposed to try their tricks on minors, but it don't stop 'um. With vampires, ya can be sure they're lookin' for one of two things: blood or new members. Many wizards an' witches go with a vampires once in their life, just for the donation- though mind, an' ya didn't hear me say this to your lovely little ears, missy, but usually donations involve a certain amount of hoo-hah, ya follow?"

"Yes, sir." Conny winced, blushing. The Professor grinned sheepishly and made a shush gesture with his finger to his lips.

"But as I said, they shouldn't be goin' after minors. I've half a mind to get them Brotherhood bods to shut them down… but a few always come for the appointment in the back tents… ah, it ain't none of my business."

Conny nodded. "But sir… isn't it unsafe for them to be here, then?"

"I'm sure it is, honey, but we're livin' in a new age. We know, maybe not as well as ya'll, but we yanks still remember the dark days. England wasn't the only place that He-Who-Ain't-Named affected. He got followers in my country too, honey, and they caused twice the ruckus, hopin' he'd notice 'um. Well, nowadays, he's gone, and the world is at peace, so we gotta allow certain things. One of them things is dark creatures seekin' redemption."

"Do they really, though?" She asked quietly, watching the sleek, brooding creatures as they entranced their clientele. She watched the girl who'd nearly got her show a young, attractive man behind their stall into one of their tents. Carmichael saw that the question was rhetorical and followed her gaze. "You think a lot for a kid, missy."

"I'm a Ravenclaw, sir. It's what we do." She smiled to herself.

"A Ravenclaw, huh? You're a Hogwarts kid, then." He smiled. "Best damn school of magic there is. I'd like to say that for Salem, but it wouldn't be true."

"I'm sure that Salem is brilliant, sir." Conny said.

"Ah, you're as bad as them damn charmers, makin' an old man blush! What's ya name, kid?"

"Conyeri DeHayersae." She shook his hand. "I'm coming to your seminar on essay-writing tomorrow."

"Well damn!" He bellowed, shaking her hand back so hard she thought it might snap out of joint. "I'll be lookin' forward to it, missy! Now, you keep yourself safe, yeh?"

"Yes, sir." She grinned as he waved goodbye to join a group of laughing wizards over in the non-fiction section. She stayed well away from the vampires after that, though she had the oddest feeling that their eyes were following her around the field.

She drifted over to the poetry section and joined a come-and-go table decked out with parchment, quills, and small but thick thesauruses that waddled up and down barking synonyms at the poets.

She took out her little red journal and put some of her observations from last night down onto paper, but the poetry felt worthy and bland. She sat thinking of a while, chewing her quill absently. She was drifting off into nowhere when she remembered something, and took out the little quill her father had sent her. She gently touched her cheek with it and watched as it jumped to life, scrawling across the paper.

_Dark hollow burning with a thousand candles_

_Lights the light's way to darkness_

Conny scratched her head. That hadn't been what she was thinking. She'd been pre-occupied with the worry that Hogwarts wasn't safe any more. She read the lines again, trying to decipher them.

"Wow." A teenaged wizard said beside her, leaning over to read the couplet. "That's… that's so true."

She turned to look at him. "Pardon?"

"That verse. It's about Hogwarts, isn't it? I recognise you. You're the girl that Douglas attacked. I'm Az Spooks- Slytherin seeker, third-year."

He was short, with sandy blonde hair and dark eyes. He looked nice enough. "I… I suppose it is."

"It's about not feeling safe, and that moment in the Great Hall, right?" He asked. She stared at him. How did he know what she was thinking better than she did?

"Yes. Yes, it is. How… how can you tell?"

"It's just really beautiful. The imagery all fits, and the way you look as though it was something bothering you… sorry, am I intruding?"

"No, no, it's fine." She assured him.

"Well, I did push in and read what you wrote, so would you like a look at mine?" He offered his parchment.

_Whip, billow, curve so tight it hurts,_

_Feet pushing, nose towards the sky,_

_Reaching out beyond into the silver day_

_Further- further- clutch!_

_A golden fortune in a tiny hand_

_CXLIX._

"It's… Quidditch?" She guessed. She could almost feel the whoosh of cold air beneath her. "You're really good. Why do the numerals only read one hundred and forty-nine?"

"Because Slytherin are always just off winning the cup every year." He said sourly. "Ah, well. We'll win soon. You play?"

"Not well." She said. "But I think I'd like to. My friend Lucy says I'd make a good keeper… but I don't know if my back would allow it…"

He gave her a comforting look. "It must have been hard. I hope you get better- maybe I'll see you on the pitch!"

They laughed and chatted for a while. Az- Azinnus- was a nice guy. He was quite shy and somewhat effeminate (hence the poetry writing), but his body didn't belie that. He had a short, willowy body, perfect for seeking, and he looked like you shouldn't get on the wrong side of him, just by the way he carried himself. He revealed that it was a defense mechanism- Slytherin was not a house in which you could express yourself freely. "That's why I like being here- I get to write all I like without being teased."

"It's horrible that you can't be yourself!" Conny said.

Az shrugged sadly. "It's just how things are."

"Why are you in Slytherin? You seem… nice."

He sighed. "Being in Slytherin doesn't make you a vile Death Eater by default. You heard the sorting hat- there's more to us than our reputation. I wish more people would look past that."

Conny went on to discuss with him the same thing she'd talked about with Corfax in the caravan on the way- how your House influenced who you are. They went on for a good hour, poetry forgotten, and when Conny's mum and dad found her she was reluctant to leave, but she was going to go to the recording of I'm Sorry I Haven't a Curse. She promised Az that she'd see him tomorrow and made her way with her parents and an excited Corfax into the large, violet tent that the wizarding wireless had set up. Conny had expected plastic chairs, but instead, there were hundreds of beanbags arranged in clusters in a circle around the raised dais. Two harried-looking members of the tech crew were setting up the last of the antiquated speakers and microphones. Conny's heart leapt in her throat when the chairman and panelists took their seats. A good ten- minutes of hilarious pre-recording banter ensued before the theme tune blared out and the session begun.

Conny left the tent an hour later with sore sides and dry eyes from laughing too much and crying with laughter. She'd often listened to the programme, but that was the cut version that made it onto the 30-minute radio slot. The uncut hour she'd just listened to had been side-splitting, and she kept bursting into giggles every time she remembered something.

In the afternoon, she bought a couple of books she'd been looking for- _Binding Words for the Busy Wizard _by Simon Scribble, and _An introduction to Runes and their use in Modern Paperbinding _by Turgeous Floris, a book about six inches thick that looked to be neither interesting nor particularly enthralling, but had been very cheap (the reason possibly being that she was the first person to buy a copy that day). She left Corfax behind in excited conversation with a visiting artist, who had illustrated much of the _Wild Wizard _comics and found herself a reasonably sunny piece of beach upon which to read her books.

_Binding Words _was brilliant; it was easy to understand and broke the art of transcribing magic onto parchment down into easy steps. Conny quickly found herself absorbed in Simon Scribble's easy, colloquial writing, which was interspersed with amusing anecdotes, demonstrations and other useful things. She was deep into chapter four (Pens- Material, Ink, and all that Twaddle) when she heard crunching on the shingle.

"Hullo again." Cameron said cheerily, today wearing a coat. His hair was matted over his face, and his cheeks were red. Conny guessed that he'd run all the way from across the bay.

"Hello." She replied, marking her page and slipping the book between her legs to stop him seeing the title. "Been fishing?"

"Not yet." He said breathlessly. "I wondered if you'd like to come. Before dinner."

Conny looked hesitantly back at the campsite, then at the sky. It was mid-afternoon- she had ages- and couldn't really think of a good reason to deny him. Besides, if she caught a fish, her dad might not be able to burn it as easily as he did steak.

"Okay." She said, to his surprise. "Let me put my books back and change, and I'll be with you in a couple of minutes."

She walked quickly back to the caravan, stowed her books and changed into tattered trousers and a t-shirt. She tucked her wand inside the t-shirt, in her waistband, just in case. A witch without her wand wasn't much of a witch.

When she met Cameron again, he was holding two long fishing rods and a battered toolbox. He took her to a long; concrete jetty covered with slippery seaweed and barnacles, and taught her the basics of fishing.

They had very little luck in the first half hour, and spent it talking. Conny felt awkward around Cameron because he was a muggle, and she couldn't ever be totally truthful with him. He asked a lot of questions she had to lie to answer, and it made her sad. Her family, on both sides, was accepting and generally lovely, but she'd always been told that most muggles wouldn't react that way. In many ways, wizards were more powerful than them; they'd see themselves as inferior, and if anything, humans are used to being at the top of the food chain. It could start a war. No, they were better hidden.

In a lull in their conversation, Conny felt her line suddenly go taut and cried out as the rod nearly slipped out of her hands. Cameron lunged over to help her, and together they reeled the fish up.

It was a small carp, not longer than Conny's forearm, but she was immensely proud of it. It floundered and slapped about on the jetty, but Cameron chucked it into a bucket of water. "Stays fresher." He explained.

They fished for a while longer, as the afternoon sun began to droop towards the horizon. In fact, Conny found not talking to be best. So much of what she did was talking. Talk, talk, talk- but now she could just be silent. Cameron accepted her as whatever he thought she was and that was fine.

Wanting to catch another fish, Conny surreptitiously took her wand out. It should be safe; she reckoned- the festival would be giving off such a strong magical signal that her Trace would be haywire anyway, so chancing magic was pretty safe.

Not quite knowing what spell to use, she hesitated. A summoning charm was way beyond her ability, but a hover charm was way too obvious. She thought for a second. I may as well make one up, she decided, scrounging around for some Latin. David had gone through pains to make sure she knew some before she entered Hogwarts, though it hadn't been used any more than her ability to recognize what a spell did just by looking at the incantation. And she'd had no idea what Killory had been talking about, either, so really, her Latin wasn't very good at all.

"Let's see…" she muttered, "_Adverto Piscis_!"

Nothing happened. Conny scowled and put her wand away. Oh well, at least she tried.

Ten minutes went by in relative silence, but Conny's senses began to tingle suddenly, and Cameron looked equally uneasy. They shared a look.

In that moment, a catfish the size of a sofa launched itself out of the water at them.

Conny just reacted. She whipped her wand from her waistband and roared "_Flipendo!_" With more force than was really necessary. A bolt of blue light hit the catfish's head, sending it flying backwards in a wide arc into the water. Cameron stared. Conny went cold.

I've just broken the Statute of Secrecy, she thought.

Cameron blinked, flabbergasted. "What on earth was that?"

Lies came unwanted to Conny's tongue. "Looked like some gas exploding to me."

He blinked and shook his head. "Gas? Gas from where?"

"From the seaweed! When it dries, the gas in the pods is released. If too much of it is concentrated in one place, it can explode. Usually on marshes, you know- will 'o the wisps? But it happens on sea, too."

"The fish must have brought up lots of gas with it." He said slowly, looking at the rippling water. "Wow. I thought for a moment there- I know it's rather silly- that you shot light at it!"

She laughed nervously. "What? How on earth could I have shot light?"

He shrugged. "Yes, I know, very fanciful of me. It all happened rather fast. I must be so bored that I'll invent anything!"

She laughed quietly, but he went on. "What was that you said? 'Flipping heck!', as it heard it! So ladylike of you. I would have sworn."

Conny nodded, the nexus of eels in her stomach slithering around uncomfortably. "I… I think we should leave now. There might still be gas around, and the only thing I want cooked is this fish."

"Indeed." He said. They packed up their things. From the land, Conny heard a woman shouting.

"David! David, your supper is nearly ready!"

Cameron excused himself.

They never met again, those two, though Conny thought of the strange muggle boy often when she was about to take silly risks, or experiment with spells. Cameron, on the other hand, got back to his house in Berkshire the following week, took out several books from his local library, and found that there was no such thing as a seaweed gas explosion, and that giant catfish do not live in English waters. Perturbed, he never quite understood what has occurred that afternoon. Some twenty-seven years later, he would find out that, in fact, all the fancy imaginings that a little girl on a Dorset jetty had generated in him were truer than he'd ever dared think.

The DeHayersaes and Corfax ate burnt fish that evening.


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen: Az Spooks; Quidditch Coach

It rained heavily that night, and any muggle camper would have woken up with a damp sleeping bag, a soggy tent and the prospect of probably walking up a mountain with nothing but a crusty ham sandwich and some Kendall mint cake to keep them going. However, this was a convention of wizards, and they'd rather stay nice and snug, thank you very much.

Conny stretched and blinked, tasting the air. Her room was light and the window was open, and she could keenly smell the porridge cooking in the polish family three pitches along's cauldron. She checked her watch and noticed that it was half eight- far too early to be up and about in the holidays. She decided to write her letters with the private time.

First, she did the easy ones- Jonmarc and Lucy. She jotted down what had been happening, how she'd accidentally summoned a fish, the vampires, everything she'd seen. She asked how their Easter holidays had been going, added about a paragraph of moaning and funny jokes, doodled some pictures of a stick-girl being eaten by a fish that moved and sealed them in envelopes.

Then she paused over a fresh seat of parchment.

_Dear Professor Killory,_

Well, that was a good start, she thought.

_I haven't been attacked by any dark wizards or zombie students yet._

She nodded approvingly.

_Nor have I been accosted by any Death Eaters._

A twinge of guilt hit her then; Corfax had seen her scar.

_I'm having a good time at the British Wizarding Literature Festival. Vampires are very creepy though. One thing, though. Corfax Nimmle, who's with me, saw the mark that Douglas' curse left. I hope it heals eventually. Other than that, with the way it looks and the little stitch marks (I thought wizards didn't use stitches? And could you tell me who actually healed me? Someone from your organization?) it's actually a pretty accurate map of the Hammersmith & City line on the London Underground, except it misses out Shepherd's Bush, which weirdly enough is my stop where my house is nearest to. Strange co-incidence?_

_Oh, I'm stuck on the essay you gave us for holiday work- "To what degree have the advances in spellwork by Rodett and Greenleigh in 1776 shaped modern self-defensive magic?" I'm not sure I understand Rodett's theory of counter-power concentration, and the textbook is hazy about it._

_Speaking of holiday work, I'm shocking at Astronomy. Do you know why Pluto crossing Neptune on a Thursday is so bad for brewing love potions? I can't find any reasons and Professor Sinistra gave us a foot of parchment on it!_

_Hope you're having a good holiday,_

_Love from Conny_

She read the letter over and cringed, but decided that if she crumpled this one up she'd never manage to write another, so she put it in an envelope and sealed it with blue wax, then snuck out into the awning where Beethoven was snoozing on his perch. "Oi." She poked the dozy owl. His hearing wasn't very good.

"This one's for France- FRANCE!" She said airily. "This one goes to Egypt, the other to Scotland. Okay?"

Beethoven looked a little dozy, but she slotted the letters into his pouch and let him out into the clear air.

She took a stroll around the campsite while it was still relatively quiet. Near the little shop she'd bought chocolate in yesterday, she saw a semi-familiar face- Az Spooks shuffled out of a green marquee with several fat goats tethered in a pen outside it, his sandy hair ruffled. He was wearing only a pair of black and grey checked boxer shorts, and she could see a large bruise covering his stomach about the shape of a bludger.

He noticed her and waved, coming over and trying to make himself presentable. "Morning." He yawned.

"Morning. How'd you get that bruise?"

He poked it and chuckled. "Got this from Methalius Rosier- great big git of a beater on the Slytherin Quidditch team- during our last practice of the term. We're against Hufflepuff in May, and we're way behind."

Conny's stomach turned at the mention of Quidditch, but she pushed the feeling way down into her toes. Slytherin- Hufflepuff wasn't the last match of term; Ravenclaw- Gryffindor was, in later May. "Your own beater hit you?"

"It was a practice session; who else was he meant to hit?" Az asked. "And besides, I've had worse. Broke my nose last year against your seeker Lorelei Porter- we crashed on a snitch-dive."

"It all sounds rather dangerous to me." Conny said.

"It is." He shrugged. "But Merlin, it's so fun."

Conny saw an idea rise in his eyes and sighed.

"I'll take you for a fly!" He said enthusiastically. "We can nick my brother's broom for you- he won't be up for hours, he's a university student."

"Where does he go?"

"City of London." He said. "He's going to be an Obliviator, but I think he's taken too many spells to the head- he can't remember where his socks are half the time."

"An Obliviator- that's cool. You sure he won't mind, though?" Conny looked apprehensively at where two brooms were parked. She didn't much fancy flying. Az grinned and grabbed both of them, throwing one over to Conny. She caught it awkwardly in both hands and held it dumbly.

"Well, get on!" He urged. Conny positioned herself and felt the cushioning charm flare into life, saving her buttocks from the splinters that seem to cover the broom. She felt the broom tensing (if brooms could tense) beneath her. Az hopped aboard his Nimbus 1700 and kicked up into the air, rising in a neat arc. With a wobble, Conny followed him slowly, the lurching feeling of being in the air making her slightly nauseous.

"Loop around the fields!" Az shouted, diving down and doing a loop. Conny trailed behind him, wondering if this was allowed. Wouldn't Cameron and the muggles across the bay see them?

"Yeeeehhhhaawww!" Az yelled, pulling up a gnat's crotchet from the ground, so close that he came up with grass stains on his nose. Conny wondered how he wasn't cold- he was still only wearing his boxers. She decided that he was probably crazy. "C'mon!"

They did a few loops around the festival grounds to warm up, and Az made a brief stop at his tent to grab a quaffle. "We should practice!" He said, throwing Conny the quaffle. She only just caught it and lost her balance, nearly falling off. She tensed her stomach muscles to keep upright, hovering in the air. How on earth did Quidditch players do this? While moving? And there were bludgers and other players to worry about, too.

"I'm going to fall!" She said, swaying dangerously. "Holy Merlin!"

He whizzed past, laughing and snatched the quaffle out of her hands. "C'mon, don't be boring! We can go over to the green behind that cliff- the wizard kids have set up a pitch there."

Brilliant, Conny thought, just wonderful. Now we can play Quidditch all morning! Hurrah!

They flew to the small, overgrown field that Az had described as a 'pitch', and touched down at the centre, which had been worn down to chalky dirt where all the local kids had launched off from it. Conny's legs felt like jelly.

"That wasn't so bad, right?" He said guiltily, looking at how shaken Conny was. "Maybe we'll go a bit slower, okay?"

"That would be better." She agreed, glad that she hadn't had breakfast yet. "And remember that I'm a twelve-year-old girl and not a seventeen-year-old Slytherin Quidditch player."

"I can see that." He laughed. "The rest of my team have arms like bulging bags of melons. The reason I'm so slight is that I'm the seeker."

"You? Slight?" she said.

"Compared to, like Haley or Duke Shadden, I'm a gnome."

Conny remembered seeing Gary Shadden- everyone called him 'Duke', even teachers. He was a fifth-year, about seven feet, with buzz-cut black hair and frightening eyebrows that shaded his eyes. He was the Slytherin keeper and had been for some years, and was usually found either alone looking like a serial killer, striding down Hogwarts corridors looking like a serial killer, or in a group of other Slytherins looking like a serial killer. Yes, in comparison to Duke Shadden, Az was a pixie.

"True." She nodded. "Well, as long as it's not too hard, I think I could manage it…"

Az looked crestfallen. "Oh, Circe! I completely forgot- your back!"

Conny tensed and felt the scar tissue running across her skin prickle. Everyone knew, she supposed- they'd all seen Douglas attack her in the Great Hall. "It's… it doesn't bother me that much. I'll be fine."

Unsure, Az bit his lip, but didn't stretch the matter, instead lifting off the ground with the quaffle in his hand. "Well, we'll do some passing, then. That's easy enough."

It wasn't.

Conny understood the concept. She'd been involved in both magical and muggle activities as a child, one of which had been trips to the leisure centre near her house to play sports. Catching a netball was easy in a sports hall, but catching a netball-sized quaffle whilst balancing on a broom, with the wind and the sunlight to consider was a whole other kettle of fish. She tentatively got her balance and took both hands off her broom, holding them up ready to catch.

"One hand, silly." Az said. "Stick to using one until your balance is really good. What you can do is reach out for the quaffle, then snatch it under your arm or hold it to your chest to get a grip."

"Right." She thankfully put one hand back on the broom handle. Az hovered about three metres away and threw the quaffle in a soft arc. Conny reached out for it and pulled it under her armpit as soon as the crimson leather touched her fingers. She rocked dangerously forwards but recovered her balance and grinned like a fool. "With that done, I'm in the running for Quidditch Captain, yes?"

"Of course." He gestured for her to throw it back. They continued passing- over-arm, under-arm, up and down pushes (which took timing. A second too late and you either hit the person you were throwing to on the head or between the legs), and gradually started moving. Simple, straight sweeps along the pitch, passing between them, and then scoring through the crooked wooden goalposts. Conny's aim was horrendous; she wasn't going to be a chaser- that was for sure.

It was mid-morning by the time they flew back to the campsite, sweaty, covered in dirt, with bruised fingers and goofy smiles on their faces. They managed to return Az's brother's broom without him noticing it had been gone. Az's parents came out to greet Conny. Mr. and Mrs. Spooks were wealthy, pureblooded but not evil. They had some very conservative ideas about blood purity, sure, but they weren't Death Eaters. Later that day, Conny borrowed a copy of _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy _and found that both the Spooks family and the Mothley family were part of the most Ancient and Noble House of Karov, known for its generally quite 'liberal' stance on life. Then again, the Wizarding Genealogy's idea of liberal was Conny's idea of radical, so she took everything she read with a pinch of salt.

She returned to the caravan and was treated to an earful for disappearing without telling anyone and a bowl of chocolate Gnome-e-O's (wizarding cereal. The little chocolate gnomes tended, depressingly, to drown in the milk, though, without the little cheerio-sized life rings that were the actual cereal).

"At least leave a note next time!" Elizabeth was saying loudly. "Honestly, you could have been abducted and we'd have had no clue. Isn't that right, David?"

Conny's rather nodded from behind the _Daily Prophet _but secretly gave Conny and thumbs up and a wink.

"Right." She said as her mother continued to rant. Conny decided she must just be flustered because Rhonsus Carimad had touched her hand while signing her copy of _Love in the Dark Days_, which Conny thought in rather poor taste. A muggle woman torn from her idyllic country life by the Wizarding War; Foster Dreyton, rugged and troubled Auror hiding from the forces of evil he'd vanquished years before. The war brought them together… but would it tear them apart?

Even the blurb sounded cheesy.

Conny pottered around the stalls until Professor Carmichael's lecture, which was held inside a massive tent decorated with the American flag. Way to be subtle, she thought, slipping inside and looking for a seat.

"My dear!" Professor Carmichael boomed, spotting her from where he was talking to some Spanish witches. "Good to see ya here!"

"Good to be here." She grinned. "I should thank you again for rescuing me yesterday."

"Aw, shucks- it was nothing!" He said, patting her on the back so hard that she coughed a bit. "Here, have a seat by the front- least I can do for an eager witch like ya!"

Conny sat at the front through his lecture. He was brilliant, when you could decipher his accent. He had a massive carpet floating behind him like a screen- at least it looked like a carpet- and he flicked his wand at it whenever he wanted to show a particular technique or writing skill. Conny took notes, and her hand had cramped up by the time the two hours were over. She looked down to see that she'd taken four foot's worth of scratchy notes. If only she could be this driven with writing Astronomy essays!

When she was finished, she went to her literature of the modern witch lecture with her mother. It was interesting, but not quite as fun as Professor Carmichael's. She did, however, come out with a free goodie bag. It contained a violently pink quill and several paperweights in the shape of pointed hats. At the bottom she found a pair of fluffy baby-blue earmuffs, too. Presumably for blocking out the sound of her mother expounding upon the amazing literary skill of Rhonsus Carimad.

All in all, as the afternoon wore on and Conny's stomach began to rumble, it had been a very successful trip. She hadn't dwelt too much on her plight when she was immersed in books or lectures, and she'd made some new friends to boot!

David invited Mr. and Mrs. Spooks and a couple of other families they'd encountered over for a barbecue, which, thankfully, Corfax presided over. They had sausages, steaks, little skewers of pork and chicken with peppers squished between them, salad, baked potatoes and afterwards, ice-cream. It was a jolly affair, and Conny even forgot how uneasy she felt at sunset because she was enjoying talking to Az and Corfax.

Very full and befuddled with comfortable chatter, Conny went to bed nearer midnight than not, collapsing on her bed with a great _flumphh!_

You know, she didn't even dream that night.


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty: The Problem with Astronomy

"Anything off the trolley?" The plump witch asked. She was a Honeydukes' shop assistant that worked on the Hogwarts express whenever it made the round trip from Hogsmeade to London, promoting the shop. Conny couldn't wait until she'd be allowed into the village freely.

"Could I have a packet of Curiously Tasty Fudge?" Conny asked.

"Two sickles, please." She paid and took the dark yellow package back inside her carriage. Lucy had one side of the seats all to herself, and was lying down with a battered copy of Quidditch Through the Ages propped up on her stomach.

"Why fudge? Chocolate wins every time." She took a bit of the fudge without asking, much to Conny's protest. "You know… they're right. It is curiously tasty."

"Duh." Conny offered some to Jonmarc, who was staring out of the window at the pounding rain and the heathery landscape with a forlorn expression.

"Merci." He popped some in his mouth.

"I still can't believe that you summoned a fish that nearly ate a muggle." Lucy chuckled, turning the page, rubbing her socked feet against each other. "I'd have loved to see that."

"I thought I was going to die." Conny said. "Seriously, though… we should be careful."

Lucy nodded and yawned. Conny bit her lip, wondering how best to bring what she wanted to talk about up with her two closest friends.

"Speaking of being careful…" the lame segue hurt, but she continued. "I have something to tell you guys."

Lucy turned her head and Jonmarc looked over his shoulder, leaning closer. Conny took a deep breath and told them the whole story, from the zombie students to Killory's organization. Everything. They listened- Jonmarc half- believing it until she explained the tainted potions. Lucy face darkened at the mention of Avery's name. By the time she was done, they were north of Glasgow and night was falling fast, oh, fast.

Lucy's book was forgotten, lying open on her stomach. "Either you became a really good storyteller at the festival, or we're in trouble."

"Unfortunately, it's the trouble, not the story."

"So, Killory's left a twelve-year-old girl in charge of saving the school from a Death Eater?" Lucy asked.

"Seems so."

"And you reckon it's the last Quidditch match of the season that he's going to strike?"

"Yep."

Lucy scratched her head. "I dunno, Conny… it sounds a bit _too_ fantastic."

"So you won't help?"

"Never said that." Lucy said awkwardly. "I just… well, are you sure you haven't invented it all to make life a bit more exciting?"

Appalled, Conny stared at her. "You think I'm making it up? You think I'd lie? You think I've got a dirty great scar across my back that won't heal properly because a seventh-year was a little ill? You reckon, in your eternal wisdom, that I'm not scared out of my wits by the fact that there's a RUDDY DEATH EATER AFTER ME!"

COnny hadn't realized that she'd stood up and was shouting down at Lucy, who was so still that she wasn't breathing. She blinked and looked around, her chest rising and falling, and fell back into her seat, panting.

"I believe you." Jonmarc spoke suddenly, in that simple, shrugging French way that he usually did. "It seems as though it would be better not to ignore zis, hmm?"

The two girls looked at him. "I mean," he elaborated, "Zat if we believe Conny, and she ees telling ze truth, zen zere is a big problem facing 'Ogwarts. If we don't believe er and she ees telling ze truth, zen, Lucie, we are leaving er to fight a dark wizard alone. And, I don't know 'ow you do it Eengland, but in France we do not leave friends to confront dark wizards by zemselves."

Well, he took a while to get there, but it had a profound effect when he did.

Lucy's mouth opened and closed several times, her eyes flicking between the two of them. Conny knew that this was testing Lucy's friendship to the maximum. Lucy was lazy, and she was used to getting what she wanted. Minimum risk and maximum output. She had the other three Ravenclaw girls to do everything she wanted, from carrying her books to doing her homework, but Lucy didn't like commitment. She'd seen what commitment did, and she'd seen people killed because of it. No, Lucy was teetering between pulling out of everything and resigning her hope and plunging straight in.

"Oh… all right!" She sighed, rolling her eyes to make it seem as though she wasn't as shaken as she truly was inside. "I suppose that I'd prefer not to lose the person I copy my Transfiguration homework off before the end of year exams."

Jonmarc raised a dark eyebrow and shrugged again, before shooting Conny a look.

_Are you okay? _It said.

She nodded imperceptibly and relaxed, feeling tired. Who knew it would have taken so much energy just to explain something to your two best friends.

"Even if this is true… Conny, I don't see what help we can be. You said yourself that he'd a Death Eater who can get into students' minds."

"Professor Killory is going to help."

"Three first-years and a crazy time-policewoman teacher."

"She's not crazy!" Conny said. "And she can't exactly help us that much… but we've got to try! I don't particularly care about Bill Weasley, but I don't want to see him die. I don't want to see anyone die. We have a chance to prevent it, and so we should."

"Still…" Lucy looked unconvinced, but shut up for the next half and hour. By the time the Hogwarts Express came to a halt, the awkwardness in the compartment was palpable. They disembarked and made sure that the attendants took their trunks up to the castle, then boarded one of the horseless carriages that trundled along the bumpy path from Hogsmeade to the long, straight path leading up to the massive double doors. Lucy kept her nose in Quidditch Through the Ages, and Jonmarc twiddled his thumbs. The silence unnerved Conny, who was growing used to the constant hum of voices that usually surrounded her.

Too tired to bother with food, Conny headed straight for the Ravenclaw Tower and got into bed. She was sure that being back at school would be good and bad in equal parts. She was surprised how much she'd missed the castle while she'd been away, but the dangers that lurked here also made her uneasy. Just as she was drifting off, she thought she saw a strange reflection in one of the glass phials that were perched haphazardly on her bedside table.

-0-

The weather turned warmer and the school was plunged unceremoniously into May. Conny went about her work, cramming in study for her end of year exams next to regular wanderings about the castle at night (it seemed as though the stress of wondering when you'd be attacked by zombified students caused insomnia- who knew?) and speculating as to how on earth she was meant to defeat Avery.

The Slytherin- Hufflepuff match was attended by most of the school during the first weekend of May, and despite knowing that Avery wasn't going to strike yet, Conny lost circulation in her hand gripping her wand so tight, jumping at shadows. Hufflepuff won in a devastating rout, though Az Spooks caught the snitch. Duke Shadden was ill, and the nervous, pale boy from the second team replacing him let in seventeen shots before Az managed to palm that little gold ball. That meant that Gryffindor would have to win by a margin of eighty points against Ravenclaw to claw their way to first. Ravenclaw were out of the running for first place anyway, but if they beat Gryffindor on points then they'd come third instead of last. It was a complicated system.

"Miss DeHayersae, if you'd pay the slightest iota of attention, perhaps you'd get better marks in my class." Professor Snape said scathingly and a very tired and worried Conny stirred her cauldron anti-clockwise instead of clockwise for the fourth time that double lesson, producing a potion that looked very like green cement.

"Sorry, sir." She mumbled, as Snape made her potion disappear with a flick of his wand.

"You will write an essay explaining what you did wrong and turn it into me next lesson in addition to the homework I am setting those in the class who have been competent enough to produce the correct potion." He said.

Brilliant, Conny thought, looking at her empty cauldron. She was meant to be smart; she was in Ravenclaw, but she could hardly concentrate any longer, not when at the end of the week, the last Quidditch match of the term would be played. And, if she didn't do anything, people would die. That was a big responsibility for someone so young.

She packed up her things and received the assignment from Snape, who smiled his thin-lipped, malicious smile as he handed her double what everyone else had. She was indefinitely thankful to be out in the open again, emerging into the Entrance hall from the dungeons. Everything felt… damp down there, and she was always left with a feeling of uncleanliness. Potions was her last lesson of the day, other than Astronomy, which she had on Sunday and Monday evenings. Conny made a note to copy her homework off Tilda Tirias before supper.

Finding a place to sit between Luke and Boris Malasten, Conny took out her work and began her Potions essays. She couldn't be bothered to go back up the Ravenclaw Commons to do work, since there was only an hour before dinner and in all likelihood the castle would make sure that she got lost on the way up and down. Plus, down here, she could ask for help from older students.

Professor Carmichael's lecture had proven to be infinitely useful, and Conny at least found that homework was easier, especially when it was essays. Now she knew a couple of good structures to use, she could plan effectively what she needed to write and then articulate it well and concisely. Luke pointed out that she was mis-spelling 'widdershins' (she'd been missing out the second 'd'), and Boris started expounding upon the properties of powdered asphodel for about twenty minutes when she asked him about it. She finished the normal assignment with ten minutes to spare before dinner and started the extra essay, though she was only on the second paragraph when a plate of sausages materialized in front of her.

Conny felt a chill and realized that the Grey Lady was hovering next to her.

"My dear, I have a message." She said in that somber voice she always used. "Professor Killory would like to see you after your Astronomy lesson- something about an extra credit essay?"

Conny's mind went blank until she remembered that Killory liked to see her in private sometimes to discuss what they were going to do about Avery. The last couple of meetings had not bee particularly fruitful to the point of being infuriating. Killory expected too much. "Thanks for the message."

The Grey Lady floated off through Boris's head, causing him to spit out the mashed potato he'd been chewing. Luke turned to her. "Extra credit?"

"Oh, you know me," Conny said, "Always up for some more homework."

"How very Ravenclaw of you." He commented. "Still, you're looking tired. I know I say this too much, but you shouldn't overextend yourself."

Luke was too sweet sometimes. "I know… don't worry, I'm sleeping better now."

"Don't lie." He warned. "I swear when I was your age I couldn't wait to sleep in the evenings."

"You're an old man, though." She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Old enough to dock you points." He mentioned with a wink. "Give us some respect, yeh?"

"Oh, master Luke, let me carry your books, let me lick your shoes clean…" she said jokingly. "Seriously, I'm fine. I normally look like this."

"Right." He said, unconvinced. "One of these days I'm going to stand watch outside your dorm to make sure you don't go sneaking out at night."

"Ew. You're going to monitor the girls' dorms?"

He blushed. "Not what I meant. I'm serious; you lost us lots of points last time you were caught. I want to win the cup as much as the next person."

"That's a joke, Luke. You want to win it so bad you sleep with a plastic House cup at night." Boris said, earning a guffaw from the table around them.

"So what?" Luke said indignantly. "I swear I'm the only person in our entire House with a drop of team spirit. We haven't won since I was a first-year!"

"Unlikely we'll win any time soon, then?" Someone said.

"Eesh!" Luke grumbled. "What does a guy have to do to get anything done around here?"

There was a silence, then: "Do it himself?"

"The hard truth…" Luke muttered. "Well, you lot can get back to being lazy, Conny can go to her extra-credit lovefest with Professor Sexypants- I'm going to complain for twenty minutes to my girlfriend, ask her to help me with my Ancient Runes translation, then hopefully we can find an abandoned classroom and-"

Someone clamped their hands over Conny's ears and she didn't hear Luke's next words. Everyone laughed, though, so it must have been rude. Luke got up and grumpily excused himself, leaving them in peace.

"Luke's a pretty nice guy, but he needs to learn to control his mouth." Boris chuckled. "Honestly… Professor Sexypants…"

"Can't say I wouldn't, though." His friend, Paul, said. "Neither can you, Bor."

"Can any of us?" He said. "Well, with the exception of Conny. The irony being that she actually gets to spend time with Killory."

"I'm not following." She said, to remind them that she was perhaps to young to the conversation.

"Good thing you aren't." Boris said. Far away, the clock up in the tower chimed the hour. "Is that the time? Flitwick set us a bitch of an essay on protection charms, best be getting to work."

"Ugh, I haven't done that." Paul said, leaving as well. Alone, Conny felt vulnerable, and packed up her things soon after the older boys had gone, returning to the Ravenclaw common room. Not bothering to change, she plonked herself and her potions essay down by one of the windows (it was an awfully stuffy evening, even in the airy Ravenclaw Tower), thinking to finish it before Astronomy.

"Aight?" Lucy sat herself down opposite, rumpled star chart in her hand.

"All right yourself." Conny said, scratching out a word she'd written twice because of the distraction. "Have you done the Astronomy?"

"…Sort of." Lucy said.

Conny rolled her eyes. "Let me rephrase that. Have you copied the Astronomy?"

"As always." Lucy handed her the star-chart with a grin. "I see you have extra Potions."

"Snape's a git." She grunted in response. "I hope to Merlin that he dies in a freak accident tomorrow."

Basil Fronsac coughed. "One should never wish for such a thing, regardless of the gitiness of the person in question."

"On a scale of one to ten, he's a fourteenth-degree git."

"On a scale of one to ten, you are a fourteenth-degree grump." Basil responded cheekily, with a knowing look in his twinkling eyes. "Now, finish your essay, my dear- you have but an hour until the stars come out."

"All right, Basil." She chuckled, dipping her quill in ink and starting her conclusion. A table over, Ralphus and Derek were playing wizard chess and swearing loudly at each other when they lost a piece. Lucy was surreptitiously nudging a half-eaten orange off the windowsill onto Ralphus's head while eating a liqourice wand. Jonmarc was sulking, deep in a French novel about as thick as his own head in the corner. All was normal.

"YAR!" A huge shout exploded from the door to the common room. Feol Achsin burst through wildly, pointed his wand at Conny, and yelled: "_Capudolor!_"

Without thinking, Conny's hand shot to her wand and she returned with "_Contravis!_"

A brilliant jet of orange sparks mushroomed out from her wand and caught the whizzing curse head on, diverting it into the wall. It took a sizable chunk out of the brickwork.

Before Feol- nice, ambivalent, quiet Feol- could get another spell off, a furious Jonmarc stood up, book falling to the floor with a thump, and yelled something intelligible. An invisible arrow pierced the air between him and Conny's assailant, striking Feol in the chest and sending him thudding against the door through which he'd just come.

"Calm, please!" Luke yelled above the rising hysteria. His authoritative voice did much to quieten the Ravenclaws down. "Gerry, can you help me take Feol down to Madam Pomfrey? It seems he may have a touch of fever."

The seventh-year male Ravenclaw prefect obliged and took Feol's feet as Luke hefted him up under the armpits.

The common room didn't know whom to look at: it wasn't often that first-years were the subjects of targeted attack by half the student body. Their eyes flitted from curious glances at Conny to appreciative and impressed peeks at Jonmarc, whom was breathing heavily with his wand still held out, looking tired.

"Pretty damn strong stunning spell… must've taken a lot out of him…" someone muttered.

"Why on earth does everyone keep going for Conyeri, though?"

Conny gulped and stared down at her star-chart. Time was running short, so she scribbled some random figures down, drew a crisscross of lines and labeled it as a constellation, then stuffed it all into her satchel and sashayed out of the Common Room as fast as possible.

It was a relief to get up to the Astronomy tower, not something Conny usually felt, because she despised Astronomy with every living corpuscle of her being. She was there five minutes early and sat in the warm night, gazing at a particularly interesting tree somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. Mildly captivated, she manned one of the many telescopes, but instead of looking at the stars, she angled it down, to the horizon.

Beyond the vast black and green mass of the forest, she could just make out twinkling lights. A village? Well, it made sense. No muggle could cross the forbidden forest to get to Hogwarts or Hogsmeade, nor could they scale the rugged mountains that flanked the castle on all sides.

"Miss DeHayersae, as admirable as it is that you are early, the stars tend to be upwards of your telescope's current angle." Professor Sinistra said blithely, appearing from nowhere.

"Right." Conny yanked her telescope up to the sky.

"Do I have the pleasure of perusing the star-chart I set as homework?" Sinistra asked. Conny rummaged in her bag for it, finding to her horror that a bottle of ink had leaked all over the top half.

"Oh, no!" She groaned as it dripped on her shoes.

"What a shame." Sinistra said lightly. "A zero for you, then."

"No, Professor!" Conny said indignantly. "_Atramento Evanesco!_"

Ally had used the spell the other day to vanish some ink that had spilled over her Transfiguration assignment. Conny, being five years younger and definitely worse at magic, botched the spell somewhat. The majority of ink did, however, disappear, leaving her work somewhat legible.

She held it out with a smirk to Sinistra, who took it disdainfully. "What a pleasure it will be to mark your… _offering_."

"Then I'm pleased to have offered it." Conny said cheekily, seeing Lucy and Jonmarc appear up the ladder. "Hey, guys!"

She bounded over to them and gave them both an unnecessary hug. Lucy gladly reciprocated, but Jonmarc stiffened as though she'd struck him. After that, the rest of the class filed in quickly, giving Sinistra no further chance to make Conny say something she'd regret.

An hour later, Tilda Tirias was the only one who hadn't fallen asleep with their face pressed to their telescope. Conny was snoring lightly, having drawn an accurate map of the London Underground instead of her star-chart, and was drooling ungainly all over her lens.

"Good work, Matilda." Sinistra said. She was sat on a large, comfortable chair, surveying her sleeping class with a mixture of annoyance and exasperation. Everyone had liked Professor Aldebaran, who was a kooky old man with a beard that almost rivaled Dumbledore's for fullness if not length. He used to sit on that chair with his pipe and tell stories of his travels, occasionally straying near enough to Astronomy for the hour to be considered a lesson.

"Thanks, 'Fessor." Tilda said sleepily, connecting the last line of her last constellation with a flourish of her quill. "I reckon it's time for sleep now, though."

"It was probably time for sleep for most of your year several hours ago." The Professor said dryly, stroking her hat. "Well, would you like to wake them up or should I?"

"I'm going to bed." Tilda yawned and handed in her star chart, appearing to quite literally doze off as she descended the ladder.

Sinistra looked at her lazy class and sighed. She summoned a bucket of cold water and prepared to wake them up.


	22. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One: The Thing about Diligence

Conny arrived in Professor Killory's office twenty minutes later, soaking wet and thoroughly unamused. Killory offered the use of her radiator (Conny was thankful that wizards were not quite so backwards as to forego a simple system of heating water in a metal container), as soon she was sitting in a spare nightdress of Killory's with a cup of cocoa, not quite believing what a strange situation this was. Any of the boys in the school would kill to be in her position.

"Well," Killory said, after a time, "Have you had any epiphanies?"

"Any whats?"

"Do you know what you're going to do about Avery?"

"Oh, that- yeh, it's all sorted out, don't worry." Killory looked at her sharply, since her voice was dripping with sarcasm. "What? I literally have no idea what I'm to do, or even what he's going to do."

Killory muttered something and pulled out a quill, scratching something down. "Well… we know that his aim is to disrupt the prophecy, and from what our seers can glean from the future, his primary target should be Bill Weasley, who, at some point, has a large impact on events to come."

"So I should stick near Bill?"

"That might be a bit obvious."

"True. And I'm in the House playing against him, so it would be doubly weird."

"We've lost the element of surprise. He knows you know, and he knows you'll be there, so he might go for you first."

"How's he getting in?"

"He'll have his ways." Killory scratched something else down and looked thoughtful. "He is one for stealth, though, from what we know of his past. It's unlikely he'll blow a plan that's taken him years to bring to fruition being showy. And although Dumbledore will be there, he will be incapacitated."

"What? What'll be wrong with Professor Dumbledore?" Conny asked.

Killory shrugged. "Seven different seers said seven different things. Stomach ache; broken hand; distracted by a butterfly- hit on the head with a stray bludger, even, but in the moment of need, he will not be able to help."

"Brilliant." Conny huffed. "So… do you think it's likely he'll go after me or Bill first?"

"You." Killory said. "Likely, he wants to kill you quietly, then strike Bill quickly to get the job done."

"Excellent."

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit."

"I can't find much other wit to correspond to the situation." Conny snorted irately. "Well, how about… a switch."

"A switch?"

"I, uh… I may have accidentally on purpose told my best friends about everything."

"Well done." Killory said. "Putting the lives of millions of wizards at risk was worth the cool story to your friends."

"Why do I even have the lives of millions of wizards risked on me anyway?" Conny asked angrily. "Why aren't you doing your job?"

"Because you interfered with my job!"

"Well, you've been doing a great job of it if you think a twelve-year-old is going to do better!" Conny almost shouted, feeling her anger rising. "I don't want to do this! I don't want to have to worry about dying! I don't want to know what goes on behind the curtain of my nice, normal life! I don't want to be involved with you or your useless Coteriate!"

Silence struck like a blow to the chest as Conny and Killory stared at each other, the former in disbelief at what she'd just said to a teacher, the latter in shock at just how worked up Conny was about this. After a tense minute of quiet, Killory ran a hand through her silvery hair and sighed.

"It is no witch or wizard's place to decide their fate." She said in a hollow voice. "Conyeri, when I was eighteen years old, fresh from my seventh year at Hogwarts, diving into my Healer training, I thought that I had become the master of my fate. But I was not. People die, and you cannot prevent it, even when you are a healer. Some people just… pass. It is their time. And as much as I tried to fight their illnesses, to stymie the flow of blood from their wounds… I could not. The same is true for you. Just as I enrolled on the Healer program and expected to make everyone better, you have entered a dangerous world and expected to make it out unscathed. You haven't; the mark on your back proves that. But, Conyeri… just as I had to watch people I had worked so hard for die, I still tried to help. You must do so, too. You must keep going even after the novelty has worn off, when the going gets tough, when you stop believing."

Killory looked her in the eye with such gravitas that Conny stopped breathing. "You must save those lives. It is your fate. You have walked too far down that path to double back now. You made your choice; now, go through with it."

"I trust you'll not fail."

-0-

For Conny, Saturday dawned heavy with expectation, but for anyone else she reckoned it would have been airy and sunny (brilliant day for a universe-changing death). Breakfast was full English, but Conny could barely stomach a nibble of croissant. She imagined that this was how Quidditch players felt before a big match, or how O.W.L. students or N.E.W.T. students felt before an exam. Except that if she didn't do well today, she wouldn't just get a T in astronomy.

"You feeling okay, Conny?" Rebecca Dannat asked, her nose in the Daily Prophet. "Oh, look the price of gold has dropped again."

"If it keeps going down the galleon to pound exchange rate is going to plummet." Anna noted.

"Why are you all so interested in money all of a sudden?"

"If you don't have money you can't buy stuff." Polly said matter-of-factly. "Well, that and I want to buy a new set of dress robes."

"What do you need dress robes for?"

"I don't necessary currently need them, but there's this amazing blue pair in Twilfitt and Tatting's…" Polly winked and finished her glass of orange juice. "Anyway, let's get going- we want good seats."

"Indeed you do." Conny said darkly, watching them leave.

Lucy and Jonmarc plonked themselves down either side of her. "So," Lucy said, helping herself to scrambled eggs, "We still doing the plan?"

"Ze big secret master plan." Jonmarc reiterated.

"If you two are still okay with it." Conny said. "It's a big ask of you."

"Pssh, I act as ze bait for Death Eaters all ze time." Jonmarc said glibly. "Iz Luc still doing 'is bit?"

"There he is now." Luke walked over to them, wand in hand.

"Morning." He said, flexing his neck, Ravenclaw Quidditch robes billowing behind him.

"Wassup, Vice-Captain?"

"Fine breeze… shame about the sun, though." He commented, looking at the sky that the roof of the Great Hall mirrored. "I still don't see what you want me to do this, though."

"It's a prank." Lucy said, proving she could act. "It's going to be epic."

"All right." He chuckled. "Just don't do anything I wouldn't, okay?"

"Sure."

He motioned out of the hall. "Shall we step outside and do this in private?"

They nipped inside the small broom closet beside the staff-room and Luke raised his wand.

"Don't mess up, I don't want to be stuck ugly forever." Conny joked, earning a glare from Jonmarc.

"It's a simple switching spell." Luke said unconvincingly. "Ready? One, two, three- _Visio Abeo!_"

Conny felt a strange, rumbling sensation, the feeling of her skin being sucked off. With a jolt, it was finished. Luke stood back to admire his handiwork.

"Damn, I'm so good." He gave them a thumbs up. "Remember, don't touch each other, or your faces will switch back."

"Good thing we're not older, or Jon would have to explain the sudden addition of breasts to his torso." Lucy chuckled. "You two need to switch- Conny, put on Jon's trousers, Jon, put on Conny's skirt. And her socks, actually."

"Je ne suis pas porter une _jupe!_" Jonmarc looked horrified. While Conny and Jon had switched heads, their bodies remained the same.

"If it helps, I feel weird without my hair." Conny said, running her fingers through Jonmarc's curly flop of dark brown hair. "And you're longsighted."

They swapped clothes with Lucy's help- as Luke had said; touching each other would break the charm. They emerged from the broom cupboard ten minutes after entering looking rather guilty.

"Well, I hope your prank goes well." Luke said.

"I hope the match goes well."

"We're only playing to keep Gryffindor out of first place, but thanks." He grinned. "Right, I've got some scoring to do; see you!"

He left the three first-years just outside the castle's massive double doors, propped open earlier that morning by Hagrid and his massive arms. They took their places- Jon disguised as Conny with Lucy in the Ravenclaw tower nearest the southern goalposts, Conny disguised as Jonmarc placed ready to jump down to save Bill using her carom boots. She'd slipped on her lucky dueling glove under her shirt- just in case.

It wasn't a foolproof plan, but it was the best she had.

"And welcome to this, the final match of the 1982-3 Hogwarts Quidditch season!" David James boomed into life on the loudspeaker, causing riotous applause from the crowd: the entire school had turned out to see whether or not Gryffindor would win.

"What a day we have for it too! The sun! The breeze! What a view of the school and its grounds- but, that's not what you came for, is it?"

"NO!" The crowd yelled.

"Hmm…" David pretended to think about it, enjoying his introduction. "Did you come to see me and my handsome self?"

A few younger girls answered to the affirmative, but the rest of the crowd shouted 'NO!' again. He chuckled. "Did you perhaps come to see… RAVENCLAW!"

A blur of blue and bronze burst from the middle of their launch tower, zooming around for a lap of the pitch. Conny saw Luke, hair blown off his face, smiling and waving. The stands erupted with applause, but the Gryffindors booed.

"Oh? Maybe some of you came to see… GRYFFINDOR!"

Red and gold whizzed out onto the pitch, doing a loop in the air (to the wild cheering of their House) and came to rest at the centre of the pitch opposite the Ravenclaws.

"Right." Madam Hooch said loudly. "Good luck, both teams. Captains, shake."

Georgia Dawson for Ravenclaw and Caspian Hungerton, still standing in for Douglas, who had not returned for the summer term, shook hands firmly. At Madam Hooch's whistle, they kicked off into the air.

"And it's Ravenclaw in possession- Niall- Fiago- oh, that's blatant blagging! Never mind, apparently not, Gryffindor have got the quaffle, Teressie to Exsmith, Exmith botches the catch- Wild of Ravenclaw in possession, she dives under Hungerton's outstretched leg and SCORES! Ten points to Ravenclaw!"

Everyone cheered. Conny tore her eyes from the action and looked around, over at where herself and Lucy were sitting. That was weird. She hadn't realized that her nose looked like that.

Avery hadn't showed up yet.

She continued to survey the crowd, looking for someone who shouldn't be there. Don't be a fool, she suddenly thought- he's not going to walk around holding a flag that reads 'I'm a Death Eater' in bold lettering! Rats!

"Move out of the way, git." She muttered to herself as Snape walked in front of the row of Ravenclaws she was looking at. "Come on, move!"

She glanced up to the teacher's tower. Snape was sitting talking to Professor Vector. She blinked. Snape was in two placed at once.

"_I tried to insist that Severus- Professor Snape- buy from a different apothecary- that was Plan A-, but he wouldn't hear it…"_

Circe, Avery was impersonating Snape!

She frantically gestured to Luke, who was flying nearby. He frowned, looked to the game, then reluctantly zoomed over.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Please, Luke- fly over to Jonmarc and Lucy. It's Snape! Snape's going to-"

"GRYFFINDOR SCORE!" David yelled, drowning her out. Luke was wrenched back into the game without a second glance at her. Conny swore loudly, upsetting some seventh-years sitting behind her, and jumped out of her seat.

_Let's see just what your boots can do, Grandma._

With a strangled cry, Conny stamped her foot on the wooden floorboards and shot into the air.

"Holy- who's that?" David said, bewildered. Conny felt her (Jonmarc's) face distort as she shot across the Quidditch pitch, heading straight for the back of fake-Snape's greasy head.

She landed with a thud on his back, monkey-style.

"What the-" he cried in a decidedly un-Snape-like voice. Conny grappled up onto his shoulders, her arms around his neck, and prodded her wand into his chin.

"Shut up, Avery."

"Ah," he purred. Jonmarc and Lucy were racing up the stairs towards them. He saw them out of the corner of his eye and chuckled. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Might we speak somewhere more… private?"

Conny heard a crack and inhaled a breath of foul black smoke that tasted like death. She felt as though she was turning inside out, and that someone was trying to pull her downwards using a hook in her naval. The world went black, and with a sickening lurch, she found herself somewhere else entirely.

"Welcome to the charming village of Caerdoughan." Avery said. He flicked his wand and Conny flew off his back into the side of a muggle postbox. Her back flared painfully.

"It is nice to finally meet you face to face." He said, "After our… ongoing correspondence."

"You could've just used an owl." She replied, wand clutched in her hand. "Would've saved me a lot of trouble."

He grinned. "Ah, yes. Pity, even a seventh-year can't perform a satisfactory killing curse these days. Standards have slipped, I say."

"Why are you here? Your master is gone."

Avery hissed, his eyes wide and wild. "The Dark Lord is never gone! When he returns, he shall raise me high above all his other followers!"

"Really?"

"Of course! I will thwart the conditions of the prophecy that ties the Dark Lord to that filthy half-blood child Potter!" He poked his wand towards her aggressively.

"Right." She said, her voice quivering. "Congratulations. When exactly is he planning on returning, again?"

He jabbed his wand into her cheek painfully, crouching down in front of her. "Don't play smart with me, girl!" he snarled. "By the gods, I've waited a long time to do this… meddling children have no place in my master's world order!"

Conny gulped, wondering if conjuring an octopus was at all a good idea now. She could feel how tense Avery was, and the moment she stared casting a spell he'd go in for the kill.

"Well… if you've waited this long, might as well give me a couple of minutes, yes?" She said lamely.

"I think not." He grinned, looking less like Snape each passing second. He was becoming slightly older, slightly more rugged, with shorter hair and watery grey eyes. He did have nice teeth, though. "You've been a menace to my plans for too long, girl."

"That would imply that your plans are crap, though."

"_Crucio!_" He snarled. Conny's body lit up with pain; she felt its bright, white hand lancing through her body like lightening, tearing her nerves up, pulling her skin apart-

It stopped as suddenly as it began.

"Crucio!" He said again. Conny spasmed wildly as the pain ricocheted through he body.

"Crucio!" Every cell in her body was burning…

In desperation, she ripped herself away.

Floating above her body was the most surreal experience Conny had ever had. Diligence… usually she just felt as though she was… absent from herself, but she genuinely felt right now that she had detached her mind from her body.

Avery continued using the Cruciatus curse on her, and Conny distantly felt the enormous wave of pain that was destroying her body. But not her mind. Her mind was safe.

"Where's your smart mouth now, eh?" Avery cooed. "Your sparkling Ravenclaw wit? Got anything left to say, girl?"

He grabbed a hold of her hair and pulled her head back, exposing her neck. Conny launched herself back into her body, feeling a nauseating, hammering pain drumming knives over her whole body. Even her toes hurt.

"Uh," she said, struggling for breath. "Yes, I do have something to say."

"Say it, then!" He growled. "Or forever hold your peace!"

"Okay." She said, smiling serenely at him. "_Cephalosortia!_"

Nothing happened.

"Pardon?" He asked. "That's your last word? That's not even-"

An octopus fell out of the sky and knocked him out.

Conny removed his wand from her throat and sat up, groaning. "Twenty points to Hufflepuff, Dad."

She put the octopus on her shoulder like a pirate's parrot and dragged Avery to the small playground, where she tied him up with chains from the swings and stowed his wand in her pocket. Brilliant, now she just had to find a way to drag him back to Killory.

With a crack and a plume of light-grey smoke, the Psychomancer in question appeared on the seesaw.

"Oh, hullo Professor." Conny waved at her merrily. "Just in time."

"By the stars, Conyeri, I was so worried!" Killory bustled over, eyeing Avery's prone body with surprise. "Oh, very, very, dear."

Conny gave the Death Eater a little kick for good luck. "Well, you know me. Death Eaters are no problem."

"Is he…?"

"Unconscious. I knocked him out with Elgar, my octopus." She stroked it fondly. Elgar looked at her shiftily. "Aren't you a good boy?"

"Are you feeling all right, Conyeri?" Killory asked.

"Oh, I'm just fine, a hundred percent ticketiboo." She nodded, and then passed out.


	23. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two: What We Do Not Know

In Conny's dreams, everyone was an octopus. When she woke up, she could smell burning chocolate and… mud.

She opened her eyes and sat up, blinking furiously. Beside her, there was a tank full of clear water, inside which Elgar the octopus was floating contentedly. The covers of the bed were snake-print, and she recognized the radiators. She was in Killory's office.

"Conyeri." The teacher poked her head around the door. "Ah, you're up."

"Uh, yes, I am." She slipped out of bed only to find that she was still wearing Jonmarc's uniform… in fact, she was still Jonmarc. "Um, how do you know that I'm Conyeri?"

"As good a Quidditch player as Mr. Niall is, his Transfiguration leaves much to be desired." Killory chuckled. "That, and I am trained to see through such spells."

"Oh." Conny said. "What time is it?"

"A little before dinner." Killory answered. "Gryffindor won, by the way."

"Oh well." She shrugged, not really caring much about the Quidditch anyway. "Um, how did everything go?"

Killory perked up. "Well, I disposed of Avery."

"Disposed?"

"Chucked him in the lake. If he survives that, good on him." Killory shrugged. "Other than that, there is one unfortunate complication."

Conny gave her a look. Killory chuckled a bit and held out her hands in a defeated gesture. "Since Avery was using a Polyjuice potion to look like Professor Snape… everyone who was there thinks you attacked him."

"And that is…?"

"Well, that depends how you look at it. To the students, most if not all of whom I would imagine despise Severus with a loathing deeper than the Black Lake, you are something of a heroine. Dumbledore is hushing it up, and so he will presumably propagate the story that you did indeed attack Snape. I would, however, assume that a detention would be in order for attacking a Professor."

"Detention for saving the world?"

"It would seem so."

"Ah, you can't have everything." Conny said tiredly. Then, something occurred to her. "Wait a minute… I'm Jonmarc!"

"Indeed."

"So… Jonmarc gets detention and glory?"

"I would presume so."

"And I'm off the hook?"

"Affirmative." Killory looked highly amused. "In my opinion, it has all gone rather well."

"You keep your job."

"I keep my job." Killory smiled, "Though I have you and only you to thank for it, Conyeri."

"But what about your carefully-laid plans? Diligence? Dueling?"

Killory smiled knowingly. "Didn't you use all that? Wasn't it useful?"

Conny smiled back. Of course it had been useful. "You never intended for the school to fight Avery, did you? Just me."

"Perhaps." Killory said lightly. "But know this, Conyeri. You did better than I ever dreamed anyone would. You have made me proud."

Conny, unable to suppress the urge any longer, launched herself into a hug with the woman who was so much more than her Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. She cried for a while, too. Killory stroked her hair affectionately.

"He…" Conny found her voice after a while. "He used Crucio."

Killory stiffened and looked appalled. "He _what_?"

"Crucio." Conny said quietly, her body flinching at the word and the memory of the pain it conjured.

Killory looked livid enough to don a swimming costume and jump in the Lake to throttle Avery to death with her bare hands. "Oh, Ptolemy… Conyeri, I cannot apologise enough… I never thought…" She sighed. "Sometimes adults forget how frightening magic truly is."

"Magic is a double-edged sword." Conny said, remembering the phrase that her father used sometimes.

"I fear the truth in your words," Killory said. "We should get to dinner; no doubt poor Jonmarc is in trouble."

Killory helped Conny down to dinner; her body felt a hundred pounds heavier from the remaining pain that seemed not to ebb from her limbs. She found Jonmarc- or, herself, which was odd- hiding in the shadow of the Grand Staircase with Lucy.

"Bonjour." Conny grinned, slipping over to join them. Killory followed, much to the widening of Lucy's eyes.

"I can hardly articulate how thankful I am to you three." Killory said. "Jonmarc, you have risked a great deal for your friend… que je trouve très admirable."

Jonmarc blushed.

"And Lucelia… I understand how hard you find it to put yourself in danger for another- we are all human, and it is a universal trait among us. Thank you for your support."

"Uh- no problem, I guess." Lucy said.

"I've already thanked you, Conyeri- but it will never be enough. I know you'll grow into an astounding witch. In fact, all three of you will."

"I 'ope I grow into a wizard, actually." Jon said with a rare cheeky smile. Killory chuckled and clapped them all on the shoulder.

"Well, we still have three more weeks of term to go- I shan't say my goodbyes just yet."

"What?" Conny, Lucy and Jonmarc protested all at once. "But… why can't you stay?"

"Conyeri… you know that I am only here on my assignment for the Coteriate. Now that I have brought the prophecy back to what we call 'correction', I must leave. I am needed in other places."

"Pleeeaaasse?"

"No." Killory chuckled. "Now, people are starting to come down to dinner."

Conny looked over her shoulder and saw that the Great Hall was indeed starting to fill up. "Jon, want to swap faces?"

"Er- non." He said seriously. "You can take all ze attention from what you did."

"What?"

"And… I am enjoying ze breeze." He admitted, patting down the skirt he was wearing.

"Ew!" Lucy said, bursting out into giggles.

"Too much information, Mr. Lucwitt." Killory said. "Well, let us go to dinner."

Jon darted out of the way as Conny tried desperately to touch him to reverse the switching spell. The three Ravenclaws ran off to dinner, leaving Killory to walk slowly behind them. She looked over at all the children and sighed. Oh, to be young again. Killory, by normal time's reckoning, should be twenty-eight years old, but she hadn't adhered to time's confines since she was twenty-two. After finishing her Healer training, she'd joined the Coteriate to do her part during the Wizarding War, and spent a total of fourteen years in their service since.

Killory caught her reflection in a pan of glass and was shocked at how old she was. Thirty-six. How many weeks had she spent in the past, righting the wrongs of those who meddled with time? How many years? They gave her the title of Psychomancer, last of a dying breed of wizard, but… that was a lie. Killory had used it as a cover to get into a circle of rare intellectuals, to foil an old man trying to avoid his prophesised downfall. Truly, she could barely use proper Legilimency or Occlumency. Diligence, which was a sort of mish-mash, bastardized mixture of the two, wasn't her own doing.

Killory felt old.

"Perhaps I should retire." She mused to herself.

"What would a world bereft of your services do?" came a voice from behind her. She turned to see Dumbledore standing on the bottom step of the Grand Staircase, smiling.

"Probably get along just fine." Killory said.

"Impossible." Dumbledore, tonight dressed in a splendid grey and gold robe, decorated with an intricate pattern of red and orange feathers that wound their way over his torso and sleeves, said, bowing lightly to her. "Aleitheas, you are young by anyone's standards."

"Thirty-six." She said. "No spouse, no family. No fortune or legacy to my name. I sometimes wonder if I made the right decision, Albus."

"There is no such thing as a wrong decision." Dumbledore said glibly, holding out his arm. Killory took it, and they walked together into the Great Hall.

-0-

Conny, Lucy and Jonmarc sailed through their exams- what Conny lost in revision time trying to take out Avery, she managed to recover due to her natural intelligence. She spent the hot summer days stuck in stuffy classrooms trying to remember Eosir's Constant and its four sub-laws, swishing and flicking her way through her Charms exam, dozing during History of Magic and waking up to find that she had five minutes to do the whole paper. Potions was not fun, but she steeled herself against Snape's foulness (luckily, most of it was directed at Jonmarc nowadays. Even though he hadn't _actually _attacked Snape (it had been Conny borrowing Jon's face attacking a rogue Death Eater _disguised _as Snape), Snape seemed to take the acting Dumbledore had asked him to do seriously.

She got out of the sweltering dungeon, feeling quite confident that her bane-busting brew was the correct shade of poo. In the Herbology greenhouses, she struggled to de-tangle knotgrass and re-pot unpottable pansies, while one bright night on the Astronomy tower, she tried her best to fill in a simple star-chart without making it too obvious that she was copying Tilda Tirias. Her father's though-reading quill came in useful here, though she abhorred the idea of cheating, but if it was Astronomy, she could make an exception.

Killory set them a theory paper to do first; it was long and difficult and would really differentiate between those who'd been paying attention and doing their essays, and those who hadn't. The practical test included using appropriate counter-jinxes, but to Conny's disappointment Diligence wasn't covered. Shame, really.

Madam Hooch even gave them a short test in flying class, which Conny found surprisingly less difficult due to her practice with Az during the Easter holidays. She was walking back through the airy cloisters afterwards when she spotted a group of students clustered around a notice board.

"It's going to be a knockout competition!" Someone said. Conny, using her comparatively smaller size, slipped between the crowd and saw what they'd been looking at.

_The Hogwarts Inter-House Dueling Competition Final_

_The quarterfinals, semi finals, and finals will all be held on Friday June 17th in the Great Hall after dinner._

_All finalists should ready themselves for the stiff competition._

_The prize for the winner of each year-group will be forty points for their house and an attractive plaque in the trophy room._

_Good luck!_

Conny looked at it curiously. She didn't know if she'd won or lost against Bill or not. Really, she'd been concerned with saving his life.

"Oi, Tilda!" She saw a familiar face pop up around the edge of the cloisters.

"Hullo." The Gryffindor said. "Anything I can help you with?"

"Yes, actually." Conny caught up with her. "You know the last Dueling round?"

"I know of it, yes, having attended it."

"Um, did I win my round?"

"I believe that they decided that since you had Weasley incapacitated and were ready to strike, you won, despite being attacked by Douglas."

"Brilliant, thanks."

"No problem." Tilda said dreamily, walking off in the same direction she'd come from.

So Conny was going to compete. And she was sure as hell going to win. Grinning, she strutted up to the Ravenclaw Tower; all her exams were now done, so she had nothing to worry about. The Death Eater was gone; the ill students had returned to normal.

Except maybe one.

In the entrance hall, she found Rissa Mothley standing outside the hospital wing, staring dumbly forward.

"Clarissa." Conny breathed, unsure of what to do.

"Conyeri." The Slytherin acknowledged her, her voice soft. "Good to see you."

"Are you… feeling okay?"

"Much recovered, thank you."

Conny frowned. "You… didn't you stop taking your potion? Shouldn't you be… different?"

Rissa's eyes narrowed. "Different? In what way?"

"Weren't you… didn't your parents give you the Draught of Peace to change who you were?"

"I took it voluntarily." Rissa said, with his blonde eyebrows raised. "I am exactly how I want to be."

"But… Lucy said…"

Rissa's lip curled. "Lucelia never respected my wish to change. We used to be good friends. Best friends, as children. We got up to all sorts. We tore our houses apart; we terrorized local muggles- we were little horrors. But unlike Lucy, my family had a reputation to uphold. I tried my best to grow up, but… I could not. I had horrible mood swings; I got angry at the slightest thing and ripped up furniture, biting people who tried to help me. My magic was out of control, too. I didn't want it- my parents didn't want it, either. So we decided that I would take the Draught of Peace to calm me down. After a while, being calm just became a part of who I am."

Conny stood, open-mouthed. "R- Really?"

"I don't lie."

"Then… Lucy was wrong."

"Contrary to popular belief, Lucelia is capable of error." Rissa said. "Now, I have a Chess Club meeting to attend."

"I didn't know you played chess."

Rissa turned her back to Conny and said over her shoulder, "You know very little about me at all, Conyeri."


	24. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three: Plaques All Around

Conny, Lucy, Jon, Rosie, Tilda, and Gil were relaxing on Wednesday afternoon by the Lake in the sun. They'd received their exam results and were waiting for Corfax to get back from the Gobstones club.

He appeared waving his piece of parchment and trotted over, looking chuffed. "Hey!" He plonked himself down in their midst. "I passed!"

"Of course you passed, fatty." Lucy said dismissively. "You may be a Hufflepuff, but you're not _that_ thick."

"I think that's a compliment?" He asked to the chuckling of the group. "How did everyone do?"

"Gil failed Transfiguration."

"I didn't fail." He said. "I… well, I did badly."

"In fairness, Gil did get ninety-nine percent in History of Magic."

"What?"

"I don't know how you did it." Lucy grumbled. "I drooled on my paper more than I wrote on it."

"I like History of Magic. It's interesting." Gil shrugged. "Conny, how did you do?"

"Uh, I aced Transfig. A hundred and four percent in Charms- I think that's just Flitwick being nice- scraped a pass in Astronomy and Herbology, did all right in Potions and History of Magic." Her eyes widened when she saw her Defense Against the Dark Arts grade.

"What?" Rosie leaned over her shoulder. "Holy Quintin!"

"What is it? Corfax and Gil demanded. "Killory's given you a Special Award for Outstanding Contribution to Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"And a hundred percent in your end of term exams!"

"What did you _do_?"

Conny gaped at the paper. Tears formed in her eyes. None of the others here knew truly how much Killory's accolades meant to her. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and smiled. "Maybe it's just because I'm amazing?"

"Hey, if you win the dueling, you'll have two plaques in the trophy room in your first year!" Gil worked out. "Wow… wish I would win something."

"Shame you chose History of Magic to be good at- Binns is about as likely to give an award as Snape is to give Jon a big, sloppy kiss."

Jonmarc shuddered and blushed. He was acting his part remarkably well as counter-Snape icon and school-wide hero.

"Well, we all managed to pass our first year." Tilda said, sounding slightly surprised.

Survive, more like, Conny mused, clutching her report. She felt happy, surrounded by her friends, and for the first time, she felt safe and joyous at Hogwarts. Looking out at the Lake, the mountains, and the castle in the sun- it was really quite beautiful. Now that Avery was gone, she realized what everyone else must feel- that Hogwarts was sort of like a second home. Not that she didn't love her first home in London, but she no longer felt threatened. It was…

It was brilliant.

-0-

Friday came slowly, full of expectation and blinding sunlight. The sun refused to set, and after the End of Term feast, the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall showed a mess of pink and yellow clouds splayed haphazardly over a purple-red sky. The tables were floated for the last time; the cushioning charm put in place, and the matches announced.

Mark Arrit lost to Daisy Sorbes, Tilda won against Evin Cast, and Lucy trounced Rissa in a rather angry, heated match that ended with a few choice cusswords from Lucy and, actually, some tears from Rissa.

Conny's first match was against Slytherin Charles Wooton, but she was so buoyed up on her victory against Avery that she beat him in a straight game, using two lightning-fast stunning spells.

The quarterfinals done, the tapestry began to glow with the semi-finals. Conny Versus Tilda, Lucy versus Daisy. Conny got back up to the platform and nodded at Tilda. She always got the odd feeling that the dozy Gryffindor knew more than she let on.

"Let's have a good match, Conyeri." She said happily, blinking very slowly. "Tell me, how is Elgar doing?"

Conny was taken aback. "How do you know about Elgar?"

"Isn't your cat called Elgar? It was some composer." She winked and fired a Curse of the Bogies at Conny, who dodged out of the way.

"My cat is Bach, you know that."

"Ah, yes." Tilda smiled dopily. "Well, I know I'm looking forward to summer. You?"

"Definitely. _Flipendo!_"

Tilda flicked the spell back at her. "I know I'll be visiting my local playground a lot. Luckily enough, the swings still have their chains."

Conny narrowed her eyes, realizing that Tilda was playing games with her. "I suppose the stars told you all this?"

"The stars never lie." Tilda said, shooting a jinx that hit Conny in the ankle. She returned with a fierce onslaught of spells. Tilda dodged a few, but took the rest on the chest and teetered backwards. "Ow."

"_Vermillious!_" Conny cried, hitting Tilda squarely on the forehead, leaving a burn-mark. She was awarded the advantage when the Gryffindor fell backwards awkwardly. With her wand pointing straight at Tilda, she advanced, doing her best to look menacing. "I don't care how you know, but you'd best keep it to yourself. Understood?" She hissed in a whisper.

Tilda shrugged, her soft brown eyes slipping out of focus. "_The years will pass through the sun and snow, yet you will change not. In the end your love will be your work and your work will destroy your fate. Trust not the gift-bearer, for the gift will hurt your heart and home and leave you lost in dreams."_

She blinked and looked around. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"You just… what?" Conny looked confused. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing." Tilda frowned. "I suddenly feel quite awful. Professor Flitwick, I withdraw."

The crowd muttered and helped Tilda down from the stage into a squashy armchair. "Well, Conyeri, that puts you through to the final, I suppose." Flitwick said, flicking his wand at the tapestry. "Lucy, Daisy, your turns!"

Daisy and Lucy were bowing to each other when a shout rose from next to them. The third-year champion had been crowned.

"Well done Jenkins!" Flitwick clapped enthusiastically with the rest of the staff before turning back to his own duelists.

"Three… two… one… begin!"

Daisy was in there first with a powerful Mucus Ad Nauseum, but Lucy countered and practically danced through it riposting with a rippling wave of stunning spells. Daisy took the hit but bounced back with several angry, jabbing jinxes, one of which caught Lucy in the eye. She yelped and tripped over her own feet, falling with a thump on her bottom, earning Daisy the advantage. Daisy, being a Hufflepuff, allowed her to get up before striking again.

Lucy grinned and thanked her before pressing forward with a frightening volley of speedy curses; they caught Daisy all over, one blasting her wand out of her hand. Instinctively, she knelt down to get it, when Lucy yelled:

"_Lapisculi!"_

Daisy grew a white, fluffy rabbit tail.

Everyone burst out laughing. Daisy looked over her shoulder and gasped at her new appendage. Lucy chuckled and used the distraction to hex her way to victory.

"Well done, Miss Ra!" Flitwick said, "Though was the tail really necessary?"

"Absolutely, sir." Lucy winked.

"Right." Flitwick cleared his throat, and then realized something with delight. "Two Ravenclaws fighting for the final! What a good job! Lucy, Conyeri, get up there and do me- I mean, do your House- proud!"

Lucy and Conny high-fived and hopped up on stage.

"Good luck, Miss D'Haich."

"What?"

"That's what everyone's calling you. Half of them can't pronounce your surname, so they're just calling you DeH, like 'De Haich'."

"All right Miss. Raah. Can't really shorten that one."

"But you can say it in that loser accent." Lucy stuck her tongue out. "Let's go!"

Without waiting for Flitwick, they launched a barrage of curses at each other. Conny was genuinely having oodles of fun. It got silly pretty quickly- she summoned a total of about fourteen octopi in quick succession, throwing them in Lucy's general direction but often missing and hitting innocent bystanders instead.

"_Naso Engorgio!_" Lucy yelled, and Conny's nose swelled up to epic proportions. Lucy did a neat cartwheel and fired another curse at her, sending her sprawling to the floor.

Lucy sauntered over and sat unceremoniously on Conny's stomach with her wand balanced between her nose and her upper lip. Conny grinned and poked her wand into Lucy's belly button.

"Truce?" Lucy asked, looking at the wand jammed in her naval.

Conny shook her head. "I've already got my plaque. Go on, you can have yours."

"Really?"

"Of course. You deserve it; you're a better duelist than me."

"Liar."

"I'd never." Conny removed her wand. "Go on, champ. Do Ravenclaw proud."

Lucy's face split in a massive grin. "You're awesome, Conny."

"On my better days." She winked. "Go for it, Rah."

"If you're sure." Lucy shrugged. "_Cephalosortia!_"

Conny felt an octopus fall onto her face and heard the 'ding' that signaled Lucy's win.

A huge, appreciative cheer rose from the first-years. Flitwick vanished the octopus and Lucy helped Conny up, giving her a big hug. They both bowed extravagantly at the crowd, and Flitwick placed (with difficulty) a lopsided children's toy crown on Lucy's head.

"Forty points to Ravenclaw- Lucy Ra wins!"

-0-

Once the last set of dueling had finished (the fourth-years actually ran out of time, and one of them had one lobster arm anyway, so they decided that Lauren Sykes was the winner), the stages were lowered down, the mess magically cleared up, and the students sitting at their house tables, Professor Dumbledore stood at his lectern and surveyed them.

"Well," He began. "I will certainly not forget this in a long time."

This elicited a few titters from the students and several relieved sighs from the professors. "But alas, it has come to an end. I shall read out the winners, and I would like for them to come up and shake my hand."

"For the Seventh Year, Paul McWilliams!"

A neckless, burly fellow that Conny recognized from the Slytherin Quidditch team got up and shook Dumbledore's hand, quite chuffed with himself.

"For the Sixth year, and demonstrated frightening command of the Funglorious Charm, Alfred Exmith!"

What was it with Quidditch players and winning dueling?"

"For the fifth year, Boris Malasten!"

Conny turned to Boris, surprised. He grinned and shook Dumbledore's hand with a broad grin. "I didn't know Boris was in the running."

"He wasn't, but Damian Yates fell mysteriously ill yesterday and since they needed to make numbers even, he got his place in the semi back." Ally said with a hint of disdain.

"For the Fourth year, Lauren Sykes, whose repertoire of partial seafood transfigurations has kept us all on our toes!"

Lauren shook Dumbledore's hand, and he whispered something that made her laugh.

"For the Third year, Gregory Jenkins!"

Greg Jenkins (Bootsie to his mates) got up, tripped over his overly large shoes and stumbled embarrassedly to meet Dumbledore.

"For the Second year, jinx connoisseur Kathryn Font!"

Tiny little Kathryn Font shook Dumbledore's hand as though he was the rope ladder out of the burning building.

"And finally, our resident Charmsmistress, the illustrious Lucy Ra!"

Lucy, acting all cool and swaggery, strode up, shook Dumbledore's hand like he wasn't twice her height, and sat back down again bright red.

"Well done, Lucy Rah."

"Shaddup DeH." Lucy poked her playfully.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and the hall returned to order. "Very well done to all who entered and won. And, I believe that we can now calculate the result of the House Cup, is that right, Professor McGonagall?"

McGonagall looked up from her parchment and held up a finger to signify that she needed just a bit longer. Dumbledore chuckled. "It appears that the result is forthcoming. Perhaps we could pass the time. Does anyone know a good joke?"

Lucy muttered "Ralphus's haircut?"

"Don't be mean."

"He's a git."

"True." Nobody volunteered a joke, so Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Knock knock."

Those familiar with the joke format replied: "Who's there?"

"You Know."

"You Know Who?"

Dumbledore clapped his hands and chuckled at his own wit. Conny was left feeling decidedly cheated.

"Albus." McGonagall offered him her calculations.

"Many thanks, Minerva." Dumbledore adjusted his glasses and glanced at the paper. The whole hall fell silent and expectant.

"In fourth place, with three hundred and ninety six points are Hufflepuff!"

The table in yellow and black applauded politely for themselves.

"In third place, with four hundred and forty four points, are Slytherin!"

The green table cursed themselves.

"In Second place, with Four hundred and ninety two points, are Gryffindor!"

Conny looked at Lucy.

"That means-"

"We've won-"

"In first place, with five hundred and twelve points, are, indeed, Ravenclaw!"

The blue table burst into riotous applause, with hats and limbs and octopi thrown everywhere. Seventy people all wanted to hug Boris and Lucy at once. Jonmarc whooped and cheered with the rest of them, until some sixth-years grabbed him and put him on their shoulders, chanting 'Legend!'

Conny's eyes were drawn, through the chaos of celebration, to the top table. First, she locked gazes with Dumbledore, who inclined his head slightly. She had no doubt that he knew what had really gone on.

Next, she saw Flitwick bursting with so much pride that he appeared to hover a few inches above his seat, and gave her two tiny thumbs up.

Lastly, she saw Killory.

"_Well done._" She mouthed.

"_Talk_?" Conny gestured outside. Killory nodded and they left the throng of screaming Ravenclaws out into the Great Hall.

"Professor…" Conny said, suddenly overcome with emotion. "Professor, I…"

"Words aren't necessary." Killory said, enveloping Conny in a hug. "I understand."

Conny allowed herself to be held tightly in Killory's silver robes. She couldn't describe her feelings towards Killory- a mixture of adoration, caring, and also a grudging respect. Killory had been something between a mother and an older sister, with the added bonus of being a time policeman on a dangerous mission to save the future.

"I shall miss you, Conyeri." Killory admitted. "Here- take this."

She produced a small, flat cog-shaped piece of metal about the size of a galleon. It had some runes that Conny didn't recognize carved onto it.

"I want you to keep this with you at all times. It'll bring you outstanding luck in whatever you do."

"Thanks." Conny pocketed the curiously cold disk.

"If you ever want to contact me, send your owl to Big Ben, and it'll know where to go."

Conny frowned. "Wait a minute- that was where I was! That was why Bridge St. Station was outside my window, and why the light fittings were on the floor! Your headquarters is in an upside-down underground Big Ben!"

Killory chuckled. "Indeed it is. Someone with a great sense of irony set it up there; it had been too convenient to leave."

"I promise to write."

"I'd love to hear from you." Killory gave her another hug. "Now, make sure you pack and don't stay up too late, okay? You've got a long train journey tomorrow; it would be a shame to miss it because you've overslept."

Conny smiled and they parted ways; Killory down to the dungeons that were her House's Dormitories and Common Room, and Conny straight up to the Ravenclaw Tower. She answered Charlie's riddle quickly and practically fell into bed, pausing only to change into her pyjamas. Below her, in the Common Room, the beginnings of a truly raucous party were beginning to unfold, and likely half of the House would still be drunk on the train home tomorrow, but Conny didn't care for that so much now. She was so, amazingly happy that she could almost sing, which wasn't a pretty sound at the best of times. She'd done it. She'd drowned, and then faced water. She'd been attacked, but fought back. She'd done things no twelve-year-old could dream of, and yet she was still standing. It was crazy. Totally and utterly crazy. But, she supposed, that was the magical world for you. Nothing made sense, but in a way, everything did.

Still, it all worked out in the end. She pulled off her socks and extinguished the gas lamps that lit their dormitory just as Polly and Anna came in, speaking in hushed voiced for her benefit. She closed her eyes and felt the world dissolve around her. No more worries; no more duties. She could just, for once, be a normal girl.

It was a fine wish, but Conny had the oddest feeling that fate had different plans for her.

-0-

As the Hogwarts Express began to slow down, Conny's stomach did a flip. Lucy was waking from a nap, (she tended to take these like a lazy cat and stretch afterwards in a most languid way) Jon was tucking in his shirt, Corfax was cramming wizard sweets into his pockets, and all was normal. She'd miss her friends.

Well, not _all _of them.

The train stopped and they disembarked, accepting their trunks from the haggard-looking porters and running to meet their parents.

Conny saw her Dad's sky-blue robes and ran over, giving them a massive hug.

"Why hello there." David said. "I got this most curious owl telling me something about my daughter getting a special award. Where is my other daughter?"

"Don't tease her, Davey." Elizabeth smacked her husband light-heartedly in the ear.

"Welcome back sweetheart." Her mother said, pecking her on the cheek. "I know you'd like to stay, but our train is really rather soon."

"Oh, I'll be quick." Conny ran over to Lucy and gave her a big hug. "I'll write!"

"You'd better, or I'll sent you a cursed pyramid or something."

"Lucy, you live in Brixton."

"I'll find a way!" Lucy stuck her tongue out and ran over to join a ground of tall, dark men who must be her brothers.

"Fax!" She yelled over at him. "I'll owl you!"

"Me too!" He yelled back, disappearing into muggle London.

"And you, Jon." She rounded on the French boy. "I will see you rather sooner."

"Oui." He winked and went to meet his Dad, who stuck out his arm and they disapparated together.

With that all done, Conny grinned, gripped her trunk and headed for summer.


End file.
